Strings of a Web
by teme16
Summary: A psycho is on the loose, and neither Sherlock nor Jim is happy about it. Especially when a certain pathologist gets involved. What happens to be a showdown between mirror images of each other, turned for the worse. As a new player joins in to capture one Molly Hooper. (sherlolliarty fic)
1. A Message from the Authors

Hear ye, Hear ye!

The Ministry of Magic joined forces with the Golden Kingdom of Asgard to bring forth an adventure you will never forget.

Yes, YOU, unsuspecting Midgardian. We are referring to you!

_NOOOO, IT'S NOT! IT'S NOT OKAY_ for you to skip this. For this Foreword contains vital information for the great abyss that lies ahead. *ahem*

Before we proceed to our protagonists' adrenaline pumping quest, fuel inducing romance, cog turning mystery and stomach churning humorous story. Hold on to your TARDIS and get to know the manic duo Celina (celinawrites) and Gloria (teme16).

On the outside I am the average-ordinary-day-to-day girl you pass by when you walk on a busy street, but to the people who really know me, I am an adventurer. And to the people who really, REALLY know me, I am also an 8-ton pile of blubber inhabiting the Pacific Ocean...but that's a story for another time. My mind takes me to places I want to go to. I invent stories and live them out with characters of my own creation. I live in a world of magic and possibilities and imagination. I live in my mind. Yes. The Mind Palace thing is totally legit.  
-Celina

Me? You could say I'm weird , bonkers and childish, but that's just a few adjectives that sums me up as a whole. I crave for color, but at the same time I thirst for black and white. I'm pretty shy, so if I come across as bitchy or anti-social, I apologize. I'm usually in my room doing artsy fartsy stuff, certified nerd and I'm proud of it. Short yet loud, I am a doer. Though most of the time I'm sprawled somewhere on the desert, I never stop looking for things that I can do. Writer, Artist, Blogger and *clears throat* A GIRL WORTH FIGHTING FOOOOOR (cookies for you if you saw what I did there )  
-Gloria

Now that's been dealt with, I need you to focus. Are you ready, Soldier? You must have a clear mind to comprehend what we're about to say because the lives of the people you love depend on it, and so does yours.

Okay, before you go on this journey, **here are some vital information needed STRICTLY for this operation:**

This story is set after Sherlock's exile and Moriarty's return. Things were not as abnormal as it should be. It took a drastic turn when Sherlock, John and Mary boarded the sleek black car back to Baker street. John was scanning through his own blog when he landed on Molly's old website. His eyes widened with shock as he saw a new comment posted on her last entry.

_DUN DUN DUUUUN_...

That's basically where all the craziness begins. It will all be pretty clear soon.

**Now to the extra, extra important things you need to know.** Are you still there, Soldier? Yes, good...

Progressing through the story, you will begin to notice the different character changes in Jim and Sherlock. In some parts, they may even appear more vulnerable than they usually are. This is because this story is meant to revolve around the more human characteristics of the two geniuses, especially in front of one Molly Hooper.

Hold on! Don't you worry. This does not mean that we're planning to completely chuck away Sherlock's obliviousness and Jim's manic-psychotic behavior altogether. There will be a lot of times when their normal selves that we have come to learn and love in the television screens are displayed in the story. Lots of 'em. Promise *insert Benedict Cumberbatch's wink*

...but if you really cannot stomach the idea of a human Sherlock and Jim, well then we're afraid this quest was not made for you. We totally, a hundred and ten percent, respect that. You don't need to go through this story if you don't want to. You might be interested to read some of our other stuff, or hop onto your Impala and be on your way. Whichever suits you. We wish you all the best in your future endeavors. Farewell, friend!

That being said, we now present to you our story.

We hereby release you onto the fields of the lands birthed in the depths of our chaotic minds. There will not always be blue skies and rainbows in this journey you are yet to embark on, but we promise you, what lies deep inside is worth more than the gold found beneath the Lonely Mountain.

We're counting on you, Soldier!

Farewell, and Godspeed. Til' the next Authors' Note.

Regards from The Great Hall of Hogwarts,  
G & C


	2. Ep1: The Magpie Returns

**The Magpie Returns**

It all happened so fast that neither of the two brothers could have deduced the circumstances. The entire nation was reduced to a state of panic as every digital screen in sight flashed the disturbing smile and the high-pitched voice of one man who everyone thought was dead. There was only one thing that mattered at that moment that managed to send the media, the government, and even the ordinary civilian into a frantic state. The renowned consulting detective was not the only person who had come back from the dead.

Every living soul was wise to fear every fiber of James Moriarty's being. He prides himself for being an untouchable psychotic genius, emitting a dangerous aura everywhere he sets foot. No one dares to go against his will in the fear of having their lives destroyed and incinerated by the palm of his hands. There was simply no match for him. No match but one, and that was none other than the world's only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes.

Realizing this, Mycroft knew there was only one thing he could do to counteract the uproar, and that was to call off his younger brother's exile. Feeling an odd mixture of uneasiness and relief in his gut, he immediately contacted Sherlock who had just left on a private jet not more than 5 minutes ago.

He together with Dr and Mrs Watson watched as the plane turned around landed back on the tarmac. They waited for the conflicted detective to get down and join their group. He who was earlier considered as a criminal now holds the fate of England in his proper genius hands.

Sherlock Holmes wasted no time to get his mind into action. He immediately began to work on his phone, scanning, communicating and watching everything he could to get his hands on useful pieces of information about the Moriarty hijack phenomenon.

The Holmes brothers as well as Dr. and Mrs. Watson were in the fast-moving car, silent and bewildered as the sinister video played over and over on the car's television screen. The pregnant Mary Watson abruptly turned off the TV. Her eyes told the obvious emotion she felt. Fear. Fear for John's life, for Sherlock's and everybody who's near and dear to her. John noticed his wife's discomfort, lovingly holding her hand to ease her whilst scanning his blog in his laptop with his other hand.

"Sherlock, I think you need to see this..." Said John who halted from scrolling on his laptop. He looked antsy as his eyes moved up and down, left to right and then gave the content on the screen a look of disbelief.

"Not now, I am busy." Sherlock replied apathetically, occupied with his cellular device. He was contacting what's left of his network for more information about the alarming situation England was in.

John gritted his teeth in annoyance and refreshed the webpage in hopes of the content to vanish, but it did not. It rendered him more anxious than ever.

"Sherlock." John said with proper loudness this time although yet again he was reprimanded.

"NOT NOW." Sherlock was too busy to entertain John's predicament.

"SHERLOCK. NOW." The army doctor raised his voice in an authoritative manner, shifting his laptop to the left to prove a point.

The consulting detective rolled his eyes and gave in, looking at the laptop beside him. His eyes narrowed at what he saw his mouth silently moved as he read Molly's last blog entry dated from a few years back.

"It was all a lie."

But that's not the reason Sherlock looked so shocked, it was the comment he read. The comment he wished never existed, "Not all of it." It was signed with the name he never wanted to see-Jim.

"Turn the car around." He suddenly demanded to the driver, earning the attention of his older brother. "We're going to St. Bart's."

Meanwhile in the hospital, Molly was gradually recovering from her shock. The endless loop made her nervous. Her hands were fidgety and her pulse quickened. She wasn't sure if she was thrilled or scared. If it was a sick prank, she would have lost it by now, but she had a feeling that he was alive.

"Delivery for Ms. Hooper." A mellow voice emitted from the other side of the door. The man had to repeat himself before Molly could snap back to her senses and opened the laboratory door.

"Oh, uhm yes? That's me." Molly looked at the man with no suspicion.

"Please sign this." The guy took out a simple notebook and a pen.

"Oh, well alright..." Molly asked, quickly signing the notebook and getting the vase filled with glorious yellow roses. "Who are these from?"

"A very good friend." The delivery man replied with a slight smugness in his voice. Leaving immediately once his notebook and pen were handed.

Once the man left, Molly happily smelled the beautiful bouquet. Her fingers lightly feathering the delicate sunny petals, she smiled at the captivating bunch. Although her curiosity lingered behind her mind, she was just thankful for the beautiful gift she received. It was helping her shift away from her slight nervousness not too long ago. Molly gently placed the cream porcelain vase filled with roses on to the table. Its beauty can be compared to droplets from the shining sun, a sight she barely sees. The pathologist gave a long sigh, looking distantly at the microscope beside her.

It wasn't long after the enticing bouquet was delivered when an abrupt bang of doors startled her. Sherlock and John swoop inside hastily, the detective looked around the laboratory as he eyed every nook and cranny.

"Sherlock?" Molly said to gain his attention, but sadly, it didn't work. The curly-haired man continued to search and search until he halted just beside the microscope he always used.

The shuffling came to silence as Sherlock slowly looked at the vase's direction. The vase that shouldn't be inside the laboratory. His big hands quickly got hold of it and smashed it on to the floor, sending Molly to jump and John strode near his friend. The pathologist was itching to ask what was going on, but in Sherlock's state right then it was best not to.

The consulting detective quickly took off his coat and scarf, throwing it to John's direction as he warily took a single flower and place it on a new glass slide. He began testing it, observing it and provoking each tissue and fiber the rose had.

"No poison, not drugged, no traces of radiation or explosives on the vase, but he must have been here. He must have!" Sherlock exclaimed in a frustrated manner, ruffling his hair out of irritation.

"He? who's he?" Molly made her brows come together, she was definitely curious as to why the consulting detective ruined such a beautiful gift.

He ignored her question as he closed his eyes to concentrate.

John watched his friend at work and could not hide the look of awe in his face. He has never seen Sherlock this flustered in their entire friendship. Not even when they were investigating at Baskerville all those years ago.

Sherlock roamed through all the possibilities that could have happened, when suddenly he had an epiphany. "Molly, who delivered these flowers?"

"I don't...remember." Molly replied shaking her head.

"Molly, I need you to concentrate very hard." stressed the detective, "What did he look like?"

"Well...I don't really remember his face. Barely saw it because he was wearing a baseball cap."

"Shit!" Sherlock cussed loudly, pacing impatiently. His brows furrowed and he placed his hand on his chin. Thinking hard on what's the next step.

"It's been exactly 40 minutes since he left! We'll never catch up to him." Sherlock mumbled, giving another shake through his hair when his head shot, "Unless..."

"Unless what?" Molly asked immediately, she was not sure what's going on, but it's perfectly clear she's involved.

"There's always a way! John, my Belstaff! We shall look for it!" The consulting detective snapped his fingers, when he's hot on a trail nobody could stop him.

"It?! What it?!" John waved his hands in the air. He could never understand the things that's happening in his best friend's mind but if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that Sherlock Holmes was all over the place on this one.

"HIS DISGUISE!" Sherlock exclaimed in response, like it was an obvious thing. The seemingly tall man grab hold of Molly's hand and dragged her out of the lab as soon as John handed the beloved coat to its owner. He held back the urge to inform the detective about his panicking state because he knew he would only take it the wrong way and act defensive.

Sherlock wouldn't let go of her hand, they caused a ruckus in the hospital. Attracting attention from the staff and patients as Molly kept on asking what was going on, but Sherlock continued to talk to John; something about texting and boss, that wasn't important right now. She was clueless and she never liked the thought of being an outsider in a situation she's in at the moment. She looked up once more to the detective to find themselves out of the hospital, without John and in the London streets as the black night scoped the city with its shadow.

"Sherlock, I have work-" Molly was cut off by his usual pompous way of speaking.

"I already took care of that. I had John send a message to your boss to let you out early today. If he has a problem with it, he can answer to Mycroft."

"But Sherlock-"

"NO. You are staying with me, UNDERSTAND?" Sherlock raised his voice on one Molly Hooper, in which she wasn't appreciative of. Her eyes withered into a hurtful expression, her grip loosened from his. She felt betrayed when he shouted at her, she was hurt.  
They stopped on their tracks just in front of a dark alley way, Sherlock sighed in defeat as he turned around to face the pathologist.

"He's coming after you, and I will never forgive myself if he so much as lays a finger on you." He said in a low tone of voice, as if his normal baritone wasn't low enough. Molly was taken aback at first. She knew Sherlock wanted to protect his friends, but not to this extent. Not for her sake. Molly inhaled deeply before nodding in comprehension.

"You're staying with me, alright?" He made sure.

"Alright." She replied.

They scanned through the large garbage dump just inside the alley way, neither one of them would speak to each other. Tirelessly looking for a baseball cap that can trace back to Jim whom Sherlock is looking for. They searched and searched, but to no avail. The foul smell of garbage wafting in the narrow way, Sherlock noticed the suppressed discomfort from Molly's eyes.

"You seem bothered, I'm not surprised. Being targeted by that man-"

"No, it's not about Jim." She cut him off.

"Moriarty." Sherlock corrected her, the condescending tone of his never left.

"Right, Moriarty." Molly sighed, remembering that they both have come to know him in very different ways. "It's just...Why go through all this for a harmless bouquet?"

Sherlock was speechless at first, he thought hard how oblivious his female companion can be. He watched as Molly began to shuffle her feet and act all fidgety around him.

"I mean-Ugh! Nevermind, that was incredibly foolish of me. I know that answer already." she mumbled, lightly punching her head to make a point.

"You do?"

"I do." Molly embraced herself and looked anywhere but at the intelligent man in front of her.

"Enlighten me." Sherlock said crossing his arms, curious on what she would say.

"Well, I'm here to help you track Ji-I'm sorry-Moriarty because he is your counterpart and he needs to be stopped and it's only possible if you're with me because he contacted me and not you?"

Sherlock shook his head in disbelief and sighed, "Wrong. I need to keep you safe, Molly Hooper. You are of importance after all." He placed his chin and a hand on her head.

"Importance? To solve crimes?" She asked, accompanied by a nervous chuckle.

"You are important to me." Sherlock whispered.

On the other side of the city, a gruesome murder took place in a small cabin just near the valley. Detective Inspector Lestrade took out his vibrating phone and checked to find a live call from Donovan. Lestrade quickly pressed the answering button as Sally reported a break-in.

Lestrade shook his head and sighed in annoyance, "I'm on a case right now!"

"You might be interested in this one, boss." Sally replied with a knowingly tone.

"And why is that?"

"...It's Molly Hooper's flat."

Immediately, Lestrade terminated the call and made his way to the pathologist's flat. There he met with Donovan who was interviewing the neighboring room. It was well destroyed, ransacked and a mess. It was everything that it was not a few hours ago. The forensics team and a few dogs were scattered in the apartment. Though the cat, Toby was left unharmed, curled up in a corner. The Detective Inspector quickly notified Molly, calling her to come over. As soon as Molly heard the news from her friend, she instantly informed Sherlock and they immediately made way for her flat.

Molly was in shock, glasses and frames broken, sofa covers tattered and end tables fallen. These were some of the things that the perpetrator destroyed. She felt angry and frustrated and in shock. Her sight started to become hazy and water slowly welled up until it spilled from her eyes. Lestrade stayed beside her, calming her down as Sherlock inspected the room in the further back to find a grim-looking message sprayed with yellow paint on her pastel wallpaper that says, "Give me back what's mine." with a bright smiley face just under it.

Sherlock felt his pulse quicken in anger and annoyance as he examined every curve of the writing on the wall, it was nothing special yet his blood boiled. The detective fixed his Belstaff as he went back to where Molly and Lestrade was when suddenly Molly's phone rang. The pathologist quickly grabbed her phone in her pocket, she didn't even notice that she was still wearing her lab coat. She quickly opened it to find a text that says:

"I doubt you enjoyed the short-lived bouquet. I'll be sending you a field of them."

Unfortunately, the sender didn't leave his initials at the end. Before Molly could react, Sherlock grabbed the mobile device and swiftly pressed the dial button of the unknown digits that sent Molly the text. The phone rang, but to his dismay the other line didn't answer.

Since the other line didn't pick up, Sherlock was about to scan the living room next when an awfully familiar ringtone played inside the kitchen cupboard.

"Ah, ah, ah, stayin aliiiiiive!"

Sherlock warily approached the pale yellow storage, he opened the cupboard to find a phone. He sighed heavily, looking for other unusual objects. The consulting detective reached for the phone and opened it to find a text message that read, "Sod off." The younger Holmes didn't appreciate the humor in such a heavy atmosphere but it made Molly snicker. It something that she needed from the devastation she felt minutes ago.

Sherlock kept the phone in his pocket, and looked directly at Molly Hooper. He placed his hands firmly on either side of her shoulders and said with finality, "You. 221B Baker Street. No buts. Get what's left of your things."

As soon as they arrived, Sherlock suggested to have a proper bath since they dove into an awful smelling dumpster. Mrs. Hudson prepared tea for both of them, rather ecstatic that Molly was around. Sherlock didn't bother to explain things to Mrs. Hudson for he was far too concentrated on the text message he received. After Molly changed into clean clothes, it was Sherlock's turn to bathe. Soon enough John joined them in Baker Street with no results of his own.

"Mary's alright. Your brother was kind enough to place some security on her for good measure. He's told me to have you contact him as soon as possible." John updated, only to be ignored by an occupied detective.

He rolled his eyes, sitting on an armchair across Molly's while Sherlock paced around the room, evidently immersed in his own thoughts. The were busy thinking of what to do next when the phone in his pocket got another message. "I'm getting impatient, Sherlock." It said. Another one followed, "Give me back what's mine."

Molly stood up in an abrupt manner. She was beginning to lose her patience. "What does he want, Sherlock? Why won't you tell us?"

"Because that wouldn't make any difference." The detective said plainly, tucking the phone back into his pocket and resumed his pacing.

John shot up as well and moved to her side. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said in a quiet voice, "Maybe it's best if we just leave him alone-"

"No!" Molly yelled, "We can help you, Sherlock. Just tell us what he's asking for! What belongs to him?"

"ENOUGH!" Sherlock yelled, effectively shutting her up.

"Fine." Molly spat out and bolted down the stairs.

"Molly, where are you going?" John called after her, "You're not supposed to leave! It's not safe!"

"I'll be at Mrs Hudson's." Molly answered over her shoulder.

John made his way to Sherlock who didn't seem fazed at what just happened, "Now you've done it, Sherlock."

"John, please."

"She just wanted to know-I want to know-"

"Shut up. You are only making it worse-"

"WE ARE ONLY TRYING TO MAKE YOUR LIFE EASIER. NOW TELL ME WHAT HE BLOODY WANTS!"

Sherlock sighed and faced John with an anxious expression. "It's not what he wants...It's who he wants."

"I don't understand." John followed Sherlock's gaze to the stairs, and then the truth finally dawned on him.

"Molly." he heaved out, "Molly, he wants Molly?"

"Yes, John."

"OH FOR CHRIST'S SAKE-Have you told Lestrade?"

"No."

"Wh-WHY NOT?"

"He won't be able to help." Sherlock sat down on his chair and covered his face with his hands. "He's playing another game with me, John. I don't want to involve more people in this."

"But-"

John was cut off by Mrs Hudson's shrill screaming from the floor below. He and Sherlock immediately bolted down the stairs in fear that what they were avoiding had happened.

The pair saw Molly showing Mrs. Hudson her wallet, it appears to have a picture, about 3 years old.

"I... I found it, I guess I never threw it out..." Molly blushed, it was her and 'Jim from IT' he was kissing her temple and she smiled so brightly.

The image made Sherlock hiss, while John was shocked of how normal Moriarty looked in the picture.

Once again the phone rang, this time it said, "It's not always about YOU." And then a follow-up, "Glad it's still there." Sherlock didn't appreciate them at all, he was about to send a message back when the mobile device vibrated again.  
It read:

"Tonight the glimmer of the beautiful and dangerous usual I recall the place. Oh Molly dear I'm sober; Bored and waiting."

John and Molly looked at Sherlock who only furrowed his eyebrows as he bit his lip. The bewildered landlady didn't have a clue what was going on. "It's for a case, Mrs Hudson." John attempted to enlighten her.

"A case?" Mrs Hudson crossed her arms, "Are you working with a poet?"

"It's a skip code." Sherlock muttered to himself. He snapped his head up and his eyes instantly searched for Molly, "Where did you and Moriarty usually hang out?"

"Uhm...At a café! Yes, there was this coffee shop." Molly replied as she briefly relived one of their dates together, "It's just a few blocks from here."

"I believe our perpetrator is waiting for us there now." Sherlock quickly made for the door followed by John and Molly, leaving a perfectly confused Mrs Hudson behind.

"Do be careful!" she called behind them before returning to her chores. "Oh dear..."

The three of them rushed to the coffee shop. They inhabited the sparse streets, turning every corner. It was late at night and everyone they passed by either went to a pub or back home. Only a few would walk and scour the poorly lit pavements.

Upon arriving in front of a barely lit building, Sherlock glanced at Molly who nodded back in confirmation. "This is the place." she said, looking at the glass windows showing an empty display with much nostalgia in her eyes. The coffee shop closed down 2 years ago after the owner drowned in debt and became bankrupt, and the property was left abandoned.

The doors weren't locked as expected.

Sherlock went inside first, followed by Molly, and then by John who was walking close to her. The soldier held his gun cautiously in case of attacks. The weary detective grabbed her hand out of instinct and led the way.

It was pretty dark although a few lamps were switched on. They passed rows and rows of tables with chairs neatly placed on top of them. A thick layer of dust covered every surface they could see in the poor lighting. Over the abandoned counter were empty glass cases now translucent and had cobwebs on the corners. The chalk board above their heads still had the last menu scribbled on it in a neat cursive handwriting. Molly squinted her eyes as she saw a peculiar shape right next to the name of the coffee order she used to always buy for herself and Jim. As Sherlock steered them to another corner of the shop, Molly could have sworn she made out the letters 'J + M' scratched the surface of the board.

As they progressing inside the shop, John silently stepped away from Molly's side. Upon realizing this, she anxiously tightened her grip on the detective's hand.

"It's alright..." He reassured her. A part of Sherlock secretly admired Moriarty for choosing the location of their meeting. It was discreet and connected to his past, and the outside of the place had given the illusion of it having a small interior when it was clearly otherwise. No one would suspect them being here.

Finally, they saw a booth at the far corner that was lit with a single lamp on the wall. On the right was a fogged glass window which overlooked the other side of the street. The lonely lamppost standing outside provided enough light to show their path.

"You've gotten slow, Sherlock." A familiar voice echoed, "I'm quite disappointed that I had to send you a clue to figure out where I was."

Jim was sitting on one side of the booth, wearing his favorite grey suit, and sipping a cup of tea. He smiled as soon as he saw Sherlock and Molly walk into the light. "Pleasure seeing the both of you. It has been a while since I've been here...

"There's three of us." John said, emerging from the dark behind him, pointing the gun at Moriarty's head. Molly held her breath at the sight.

"Dr Watson!" Jim crooned, "Very impressive. Not many people can sneak up on me like that. Of course, you will regret doing that in the future, I must warn you..." he chuckled, ignoring the weapon directed at him.

"Shooting me in the head...that is soooo two years ago." Jim hummed, taking another sip of his tea, "Am I right, Sherlock?"

"I can blow your head off right now." John threatened, tightening the grip on his gun.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Jim said, shaking his head. For a split second, his eyes met Molly who was looking at him with so much concern that nearly fazed him.

"John, put your gun down." the detective commanded.

"But-"

"Do as I say. Put your gun down."

John did as he was told but remained standing where he was.

"Good. Very good." Jim praised mockingly, setting his cup down. "Now let's not waste each other's time, alright?"

Sherlock bared his teeth and let go of Molly's hand as he slowly moved towards the booth,  
"I will not let you-"

"You will not let me what Sherlock? TORTURE HER? For goodness sake! My intentions are pure and pure alone." Moriarty stood up, his hands comfortably placed in his pockets. John kept a watchful eye on the two geniuses. Molly remained in her place, embracing herself.

"Pure? Don't make me laugh! You only have ill intentions, I can smell it. IT REEKS!" Sherlock bellowed.

"Don't you remember Sherlock? I AM YOU. The day you started becoming human was an extension of what I felt before you. Slow, slow, sloooooow." Repeating the words in a singsong voice.

"Oh, I should have thrown you off that rooftop when I had the chance. You utterly disgust me." Sherlock retorted, making a face that can insult any other normal person.

"You have successfully destroyed my web, Sherlock. Are you happy with that?" Jim rolled his eyes, keeping his hands in his pockets as he moved closer towards the detective. "I'm fresh out of servants to boss around. All the things you've been experiencing is my doing and my doing alone."

"What's the point in this conversation? You slippery magp-"

"ENOUGH THE BOTH OF YOU! I'VE BEEN DRAGGED HERE, CLUELESS, AND MY FLAT HAS BEEN COMPLETELY RANSACKED! EXPLAIN TO ME NOW!" Molly interjected, causing the tense atmosphere to turn silent. Jim and Sherlock made eye contact, nodding to each other in agreement as Jim took a few steps towards Molly.

"What? Ransacked?" Jim shook his head in genuine confusion. Sherlock and John looked at each other in bewilderment as well. "All I did was left a message on your wall...aaaaaaand I also left a phone."

For the first time that night, every one of them had no idea what was going on.

"Molly-dear-"

Jim failed to finish or even start his explanation as a roaring crash of a car almost hit them. The coffee shop's glass window shattered into pieces. Not one of them knew where that car came from and why, everything was a blur and the shock didn't fade out as it normally would.


	3. Ep2: A New Game Is On

**AN:**

Hey everyone! So here's the second part of the story. I just want to say that we are absolutely floored and humbled by the response the first part has gotten so far. All of your reviews, comments, favorites, and follows mean so much to us. Thank you, thank you,_ thank you_. _Bless you_. Throwing cookies, pizza, and a bunch of other nice stuff your way. You're supermegafoxyawesomehot (bonus if you get that reference). We appreciate you people so much, you just have no idea. Have a totally awesome day! **- **_Celina_

Whale said everything I wanted to say xD but I'll just say it again. To everyone: thank you so much! It means the world to us! We're truly humbled and grateful! sending lots of love to wherever you may be! I hope you continue to support us :) what's your favorite line from episode 1? I'm curious :) This episode is truly a fun one! So I hope you guys enjoy! Hit us up in the review box or on tumblr! -_Gloria_

_celinalzr|tumblr_

_teme16|tumblr_

_love you guys! Xoxo_

* * *

**A New Game Is On**

The impact of the crash had caused a ringing to develop in his left ear that he couldn't get rid of no matter how much he shook his head. Sherlock called out in vain in between coughing fits, squinting his eyes to recognize his surroundings.

"Molly...Molly..." he said over and over, "Molly, where are you?"

He brought himself up to his feet ignoring his lack of ability to balance and slowly crept to the area where he saw her last. "Can you hear me? Molly...John..." He called once more. His heart pounded in his chest when there was no reply.

"Sherlock!" John suddenly called from a few feet in front of him, "Sherlock, they're okay!"

The detective struggled to follow the direction of John's voice and once the smoke finally cleared a little, the first thing he saw was Molly curled up on the floor covering her ears, and Jim Moriarty enveloping her body in a protective cocoon. For some reason, he didn't feel much relief in seeing them in that position. Actually, he felt even worse.

John was kneeling a few feet from them and he was staring at Sherlock expectantly for a reaction. Neither could make out the couple's hushed conversation.

"Are you okay?" Jim said in a whisper, "Is everything alright? Are you hurt? Scratched?" He tucked away a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail.

But before Molly could come up with a proper reply, Jim was abruptly yanked away from her. Sherlock had seized him by the collar and pinned him to the nearest wall. A look of murder crossed his eyes as he began to yell at the top of his voice. "What is this?!"

Sherlock ignored the surprised look on Jim's face and shoved him harder against the wall, "What game are you playing at?!-John-"

"One step ahead of you, mate." John said, pointing his gun at Jim's head. Molly suddenly looked mortified.

"Sherlock!" She yelled, grabbing the detective's arm. "Have you gone mad?!"

"Molly, please do not interfere. Sherlock spat out, not taking his eyes off the consulting criminal. Jim clenched his jaw, refusing to say a word. He watched while the detective slowly ran out of patience. "Speak to me, Moriarty!"

"I don't know." Jim finally said with a venomous tone, tilting his head to the side.

"DO NOT LIE TO ME." Sherlock tightened his grip on his collar, "WHAT IS THIS?"

"I ALREADY TOLD YOU, I DON'T KNOW." Jim bellowed with all the strength left in him, "I already told you, Sherlock. I know nothing about this, and you know just how much I LOATHE NOT KNOWING."

Jim Moriarty is indeed a talented liar, but not even he could mask the flicker of fear that crossed his eyes. Upon seeing his slip, Sherlock decided that he was telling the truth and released him, shoving him towards the pile of rubble.

"It's not him, John. Put your gun down."

John cocked his eyebrow in disbelief, earning a scowl from the annoyed detective, "Yes, you heard me right. Put your gun down."

The confused Doctor reluctantly obliged. However, he kept a sharp eye on Moriarty.

Molly was quick to rush to Jim's side. She helped him into an upright position embraced him tightly.

"You protected me." She fought out her words while stabilizing her breathing.

"Of course, I did." Jim huffed as if she had just said the most ridiculous thing ever, and rested his chin on her head as he stroked her hair. "I'd never let anyone hurt you."

John and Sherlock uncomfortably watched the two interact in front of them before the detective finally mustered the will to focus on the more pressing matters at hand. He navigated through the wreckage towards the jet black car and found that the driver's seat was occupied. "John, come over here."

The Soldier gave Jim a threatening look which was quickly reciprocated with an eye-roll before coming to Sherlock's aid. "What is it?"

"There is a dead man in the driver's seat."

"A dead man?"

"Yes. Although I believe this person was killed before being placed inside the vehicle." Sherlock said casually, tucking both of his hands inside his coat's pockets.

John took out his mini torch from his jacket's pocket and crept closer to the ransacked vehicle. And there indeed, he saw a man with short blonde hair, who was probably in his late twenties, wearing a tailored suit bent over the steering wheel. Sherlock appeared next to him and crouched down to get a closer look at the body and instantly tensed up as soon as he recognized the face of the driver.

"Wh-what is it?" John asked, sensing his friend's uneasiness.

Sherlock ignored his question and began to cup the corpse's pockets in hopes of finding a lead to the person behind the crash. Soon enough, he found a note tucked inside the inner pocket of the driver's jacket. He took it out and read the message that was printed on it:

_Now, now, children. You must not fight._

Sherlock crushed the note in his hand as he stood up and tossed it to the floor. "It was not signed. There were no fingerprints. It's useless."

He assumed his prayer position as he began to immerse himself deep in his thoughts.

"So you're just going to pace back and forth while there's some maniac running around trying to kill us-" John's rant was cut off by Jim who was now standing next to him. Molly still had her arm hooked onto his.

"They weren't trying to kill us." the consulting criminal looked at the crumpled note with a searing glare. "They were trying to make a point. Teach us a lesson."

John shook his head irritably before taking out his mobile, "That's it. I'm phoning Lestrade."

"No!" Sherlock yelled.

"Wha-No?!" John released a frustrated whine and jabbed a finger in Jim's direction and spoke as if they were not in the same room, "Sherlock, we have Moriarty! We have to get him arrested-"

"My word is final, John." Sherlock said with firmness in his voice. "His presence is vital to this case."

"Case?! There is no case, Sherlock! HE was the case, and now that we have HIM, the case is CLOSED."

"Let me sum things up for you, Dr Watson, since your dense mind is unable to comprehend the circumstances." Jim cut in once more.

"No, don't talk to me-"

"Let me speak, Dr Watson." Jim said in an uncharacteristic calm manner. "What Sherlock means to say is that he needs me to find this person, whoever they are. It was clear in the little message they sent. They want us on the same team."

Sherlock remained silent as Jim waited for the doctor to respond to him. Molly took a step back to brace herself. All this information was new to her as well, and it was frankly beginning to overwhelm her.

"Wait..." John finally broke the silence, "You mean-Oh no."

"John-"

"No no no no no _NO!_" He yelled, grabbing the deluded detective by the shoulders and shaking him violently. "Sherlock, you can't be serious-"

"It's the only way, John-"

"NO! Have you forgotten who he is?! He tried to blow London up-HE TRIED TO BLOW ME UP-"

"WHOEVER WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL OF THIS IS CLEARLY A DANGEROUS PERSON IF THEY WERE ABLE TO CORNER THE BOTH OF US." Sherlock yelled, "I need Jim's help, John. Please _try_ to understand."

"Understand-what-Jim?" John couldn't form a coherent sentence with all that was going on, "Since when do you call him Jim?"

Sherlock looked at Molly who was looking back at him with expectant eyes as a nerve-wracking silence fell upon them. John refused to look at anyone in the room as he let out a string of curses, fearing the loss of what little was left of his sanity.

"I have a proposition for you. I hate the idea, but I don't suppose we have a choice..." Jim said, stepping closer to the two men with his infamous smirk planted on his face. "A temporary truce to find the maniac who put my precious Molly in harm's way." Jim followed his words by extending his hand towards the consulting detective.

"Oh, you bet it's temporary." Sherlock grabbed his hand and shook it firmly before pulling him closer and hissing at his ear, "And she's not yours."

Jim huffed and chuckled under his breath, "We'll see." he crooned before stepping back.

Finally collecting himself together, John said, looking to his left and then to his right. "Before we continue making any more rash and frankly,_ stupid_ decisions, I suggest we go somewhere private."

"John's right, but where?" Sherlock agreed, ignoring his snide comment, "Baker Street is an obvious place, we can't go back to Molly's..."

Moriarty was about to suggest his place when Sherlock didn't allow him, "No. It'll be obvious."

John chuckled sardonically. He was sort of mad, really. The three looked at him with curious eyes without him knowing, "How about your parents house? Since you're planning to drag everybody into mortal peril anyway..." The army doctor grumbled, not exactly expecting anyone to hear him.

They were quiet at first, but then the consulting detective broke the lingering silence, "Yes, of course! It's far and unexpected. That's a marvelous idea, John!"

"I was just joking." John's spat angrily.

"His parents' house?! I...I..." Molly was lost for words, it was preposterous, mad, and insane. She can't possibly stay there.

"Don't worry Molly, I'm sure they'll like you. With Mummy's outspoken personality, you can make a decent conversation despite the awkwardness when you open your mouth." Sherlock commented, making John look at him with a lecturing look, while Jim nonchalantly nodded in agreement.

"You can't be serious!" John exclaimed flailing his arms up in the air and pointedly sneering at Jim who began chuckling at him.

"I am."

"They'll be put to danger!" At this point, John had to use every ounce of his strength to restrain himself from strangling his friend.

"They're Holmes!" wailed Sherlock, running his hands through his hair. "They are accustomed to danger. And if it really bothers you that much, I'll have Mycroft fetch them."

That being said, Sherlock deemed the conversation ended. He proceeded to a corner in the coffee shop, taking out his phone to communicate with his brother.

Jim's laughter simmered down as he made his way back to a bewildered and somewhat anxious Molly. His amused expression morphed into a genuinely caring one as he pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back gently in soothing motions. "You'll be alright...It's okay..."

Meanwhile, John pulled a chair out of the rubble and propped it up next to the wreckage for him to sit on. Then he gave the dead blonde in the driver's seat a once-over and huffed, "You lucky bastard."

What seemed like an hour passed in silence. There was too much going on in everyone's heads to even attempt a conversation, not that it was really necessary. As far as Sherlock and Jim's concern, this was yet another game to be played. Only this time, the game master is superior to the two geniuses. Neither enjoyed the thought.

Finally, a pair of headlights shone through the broken café. Outside parked a car that was jet black, and a single person had come out from the driver's seat.

"It's here." Sherlock spoke to no one in particular. "Let's go. And hurry, if you can."

"What's here?" Molly asked as she followed John and Sherlock out of the wreckage. Jim walked after her, never letting go of her hand.

"One of Mycroft's cars. I have told him about our current predicament ...well, I left out some of the details, obviously." his eyes twitched as he saw a smirk tug on Jim's face.

When they got out of the shop, a man in a black suit was standing in front of the car. His arms were either side of him as he greeted them. "Good evening, Mr Holmes."

"Dr Watson, Ms Hooper, and-" the man stopped abruptly at the sight of the fourth person, "I'm sorry, I wasn't informed about a fourth company."

"He is with me." Sherlock said with finality, reaching for the door's handle when the driver blocked his way.

"He is Britain's Most Wanted Criminal Mastermind." The driver said in a reprimanding tone.

"Yes, thank you, I am perfectly aware of who this man is, as I have effectively faked my death just for the sake of spending an entirety of 2 years dismantling ever single solitary one of his connections." Sherlock barked in a condescending tone to Mycroft's unfazed employee. "He IS with me." he repeated, this time with a pressing tone.

"I am afraid I cannot permit you to enter the vehicle with no approval from Mr Mycroft Holmes." The driver insisted, crossing his arms, "Forgive me, but I am only doing my job."

"Very well then." Sherlock nodded and then turned to John. "I am in need of your assistance, Doctor."

"Right." John immediately understood what Sherlock needed and was quick to comply. He stepped towards the driver, and held out his hand for a handshake.

"We understand the problem. No worries, we'll contact Mycroft immediately." John said without breaking eye contact.

The driver eyed his outstretched hand carefully before taking it, and he immediately regretted doing so because John had pulled his arm swiftly and had torn a muscle. The driver yelped in pain as John shoved him towards the sidewalk and motioned for everyone to get in.

Sherlock immediately got into the driver's seat and disconnected the GPS tracking device on the vehicle while Molly and Jim occupied the back. Upon entering the passenger seat, John lowered his window and called after the wincing man, "It's just a sprain. You'll be alright in a few days...and I'm sorry. Truly, I am..."

The engine was roaring a second after that and they were finally driving down the lonely streets of London. An uncomfortable silence lingered among them when Jim broke the ice.

"I must say," he chuckled, "That was quite amusing, Dr Watson."

John opted to bite back a cutting response. He still did not trust Jim even if he did attempt to save Molly's life. He turned to Sherlock instead. "You didn't tell Mycroft _he's_ with us?"

"Of course not, John. Don't be stupid," Sherlock reprimanded, earning a glare from the soldier, "If I told you I was driving to my parents' house with him, would you help me?"

John pursed his lips in an odd mixture of annoyance and embarrassment while Jim only giggled from the back seat.

A few minutes had passed when Sherlock's phone began to ring. The detective grabbed it from inside his coat's pocket and all but threw it to John who had luckily caught it in between his fingers. "Answer it. I am driving. If it's Lestrade, tell him I'm busy-"

"It's your brother." John interjected. Sherlock became speechless.

The phone continued to ring.

"Oh for God's sake," Jim was starting to get impatient, "Are you going to answer it or-"

"Take the call." Sherlock said to John curtly, "And put it on speaker."

As soon as John had pressed the answer button, the booming voice of one angry Mycroft Holmes echoed through the car. "WHY IS THE TRACKING DEVICE ON THE CAR I SENT OFF, AND WHY IS PHIL NOT ANSWERING HIS PHONE-"

"Do calm down, brother. It's not good for your blood pressure. Phil is not with us. We left him at the sidewalk to nurse his arm-"

"YOU'RE SAYING YOU HI-JACKED MY CAR AND INJURED MY DRIVER-"

"He would not let us in. He had an unreasonable issue with my company. It was the only way-"

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Why didn't he let you in?"

Sherlock did not respond. He kept quiet until Mycroft yelled in impatience, "SHERLOCK, WHO ARE YOU WITH?"

John looked at Sherlock who glanced at the backseat through the rear view mirror. He caught a glimpse of Jim smirking and suddenly felt his blood rising by the second.

"Hello, Iceman." Jim said in his sing-song voice, "Long time no talk."

"Dear God..." Mycroft's breathless expression was heard on the phone.

"Actually, you can just call me Moriarty." Jim replied for the sake of annoying the older Holmes, "Or Jim. Jim's good."

Sherlock caught the sight of Molly swatting his arm, and he smiled triumphantly at that.

"What are you doing with him, Sherlock?" Mycroft hissed onto his receiver, "And are you seriously taking him to Mum and Dad's? SHERLOCK, ANSWER ME-"

"The circumstances have called for it, brother. I am working on a peculiar case, and if you're really concerned for the safety of our parents, I suggest you take them under your wing for the time being." Sherlock replied in the most polite tone he could muster at the moment, "If I could, I'd hand him to you on a silver platter."

Jim chuckled, "You know, Iceman, your brother is a joker. Why aren't you like him?"

"SHUT UP." John and Molly yelled at him in unison, making him raise both of his hands in surrender. Another victorious smile formed on Sherlock's face.

Sherlock took the phone from John and said, "We have everything under control, Mycroft. You don't need to worry-"

"I will find you, you know." the older Holmes threatened, "I will hunt you down myself if I have to, little brother. You can't expect to go gallivanting with dangerous...affiliates without me interfering-"

"There's been an accident at the closed coffee shop a couple of blocks from Baker Street." Sherlock droned, ignoring his brother's nagging. "A car drove into the glass window, a murdered man was in the driver's seat. You might want to look into it."

"DON'T CHANGE THE SUBJECT, SHERLOCK. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR PETTY CASES-"

"It was Agent Wade." Sherlock raised his intonation to match Mycroft's. He felt the other line fall silent upon saying the name of the deceased blonde man.

"Agent Wade..." Mycroft finally spoke in a calmer tone, "You mean Agent Dawson's field partner?"

"Yes, who else would I be referring to?" Sherlock whined in annoyance. "Honestly, Mycroft! I know what I'm doing-"

"You don't. I can tell by the way you're speaking, you have no clue whatsoever!"

"Yes, I do-"

"No, you don't!"

"Fine! I don't!" Sherlock yelled, dismissing their argument. "But rest assured I will figure this out. This case is very different...complex, and it involves me and Moriarty. You have to trust me, brother."

When Mycroft did not reply, Sherlock added, "You know my methods."

At those words, an exasperated sigh was heard on the phone. "Very well, then."

Sherlock then grabbed the phone from John and abruptly hung up.

Not more than a few minutes after that, the phone vibrated, signifying that a new message has arrived. "Read it." Sherlock commanded, tossing the phone to John in the same rude manner.

The doctor rolled his eyes as he took the phone, and immediately tensed up upon seeing the unidentified ID, "It's from a blocked number..." This remark got Jim and Molly's attention from the back seat.

"I said read it."

"Alright," John gritted his teeth, opening the folder and dictating the message aloud:

_Greetings, Mr Holmes, Mr Moriarty, Dr Watson, and My Dearest Molly._  
_Did you like the little present I sent you? Agent Wade was definitely a tough nut to crack, to be honest, but I must say it was fun to watch him die._  
_I suppose we wouldn't want a repeat of that incident._

Sherlock clenched his jaw tightly at the message. He was still cringing at the person's address to Molly. John held his breathe anxiously, while Jim tilted his head to the side, while Molly tensed up in her seat. Another message came in:

_I have a set of instructions you must follow. If you try to get out of doing what I ask in any way, I will be very, very angry. Let's not allow that to happen, shall we? Good. In approximately 5 minutes, you will be driving by the Thames. I want you, Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty, to throw both of your cellular devices into the river. Again, don't try to cross me, children. You won't like it when I'm mad._

"Sod this!" John exclaimed. "This person is fucking messed in the head!"

Sherlock ignored him and continued to drive. Molly decided it was best to remain silent. She watched as Jim took out his black cellular device from the inside of his pocket and tapped his fingers on his knee as he waited for them to approach the river.

Soon enough, they were driving by the river and Jim was already at the edge of his seat. John looked alarmed when he realized Sherlock was not slowing down or pulling over to the side. "Uhm...Sherlock-"

"They're bluffing." He said, dismissing John's argument. "They need to contact us somehow. Throwing our phones into the river will not help." Sherlock knew that throwing his phone away where all of his important contacts were would mean giving this person the upper hand.

"But they said-"

Before John could finish his sentence, Molly's phone beeped obnoxiously in her pocket. "Oh, I'm so sorry..." she mumbled apologies as she took out her device that had a bright yellow case. A message from a blocked number came in and she looked at the screen anxiously before reading aloud:

_Don't test my patience, detective. Do as I say. You have 5 minutes to comply with my demand or the blood of your pathetic bitch in Scotland Yard will be on your hands._

Sherlock bared his teeth in annoyance. There was no way he was caving to this delusional psychopath's instructions.

"Oh my god, they're going to-they're going to-" John was cut off by another message:

_I am referring to DI Gregory Lestrade. So what's it gonna be, Sherlock? Will you continue to ignore me, or will you save your friend?_

"Sherlock!" John yelled at the detective who refused to take his eyes on the road, "They're going to kill Lestrade. You have to stop the car-"

"They don't have the guts!"

"They already killed Wade!"

Molly gasped as another message appeared on the screen:

_3 minutes left, detective. Surely the police are not to your concern. But then I guess I wouldn't find them important either if I was in your shoes. How about I throw in your little fan club as well? The Empty Hearse, they call themselves. That poor, poor Philip Anderson. Throwing his life away for a person who doesn't give a damn._

"YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING NOW." John bellowed.

Suddenly, the vehicle's tires were screeching against the pavement as the car came to an abrupt stop by the bridge. Sherlock angrily rolled down his window and gave a good look at his phone before tossing it into the dark river. Jim rolled his eyes, handing him his cellphone as well. He didn't see the point as it was a completely new one and the only contacts that were on it were Molly's and Sherlock's. He lost contact with almost all of his clients after Sherlock had dismantled his web. As soon as Jim's phone was gone, the detective was quick to take the car back on the road.

Almost instantly, another messaged arrived on Molly's phone:

_I knew that would have done the trick. They say you've taken to caring now. Did your brother not warn you about the disadvantages of sentiment? Dear me, Mr Holmes. Dear me._

John and Molly remained silent fearing that Sherlock would take out his anger on them, but an amused smile was plastered on Jim's face. This person was mimicking him and he couldn't decide whether to feel annoyed or flattered.

It took a while before John attempted to break the silence. "Look. We're going to solve this-"

"Pipe down, John." Sherlock barked, earning a high-pitched laugh from Jim.

"Fuck off." John retorted at the consulting criminal.

"Relax, Dr Watson. It's going to be a long ride. We might as well...get along." Jim said, hushing the doctor and turning his head to find a disapproving look from Molly Hooper. "What?"

"Just...try to behave, Jim." She said, looking to the front, incidentally catching Sherlock's eyes on her through the rear-view mirror.

Jim slumped back in his seat and crossed his arms as he gazed at the dark gloomy city outside.

John lost count of the hours he spent looking over the window, all the white lines, cold air and plantations were making his eyes dry. His eyes widened in realization as he frantically got his phone from his pocket, "Mary! I forgot to tell, Mary!" He got her on speed dial, ringing not too long as a familiar voice was heard through his cellular phone.

"John Hamish Watson, where are you?!"

"I-I'm sorry, Love. I need to accompany, Sherlock..." John looked at the rear view mirror to find Moriarty casually looking at the scenery they're passing by. Molly quietly slept with her head on his shoulder.

"It's something...different. Will you be alright?" John continued, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright? Do you know who I am? I can handle myself perfectly fine, John. I'm more worried about you." Mary giggled through the phone.

"Me?!" Watson asked in a surprised manner, "I am John H. Watson, former army doctor, served as a Captain in the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers AND your husband." He added, stating a fact.

"You're right, that's why you have to be EXTRA careful! Because you are INDEED my husband!" Mary laughed, putting a smile on John's face.

Just at the end of the road he could make out the bright red brick house. He looked at the automobile clock and saw that it was 10:30 in the morning.

"I love you, dear. We're about to pull up. I'll call you later." And with that, John placed his phone back to his pocket.

"Hmmm, supposed tinkering with your phone was for the better." Sherlock glanced at John who was obviously about to retort.

"YOU WHAT? How many times have I told you to STAY AWAY FROM MY GADGETS-"

"Calm down. I only dismissed the tracking device." Sherlock nonchalantly replied, he noticed the cosy atmosphere at the back and he did not enjoy the smirk Jim gave him on the way to his parents' house. Sherlock abruptly hit the brakes, waking Molly up as she fell forward and hit her head.

"O-ow..." She muttered.

"We're here." He dryly replied.

Hopping out of the car, Sherlock opened the door to the back seat and reached a hand to assist Molly out. Shocked by his sudden act of kindness, she smiled at him and allowed him to lead the way. John shook his head as he chuckled looking at the two, but then glanced twice at Jim when he saw him staring daggers at the back of Sherlock's head.

The four of them stepped onto the front door of the Holmes residence. Sherlock took a few steadying breaths before rapping on the door. There was no response from the other side.

"Mum?" Sherlock called, ignoring Moriarty's snickering. "Mum, would you please open the door?"

When no response was heard, Sherlock pressed his ear against the door. It was remarkably quiet. He suddenly began to feel anxious.

"Are your parents not home?" John asked.

"It seems so." Sherlock bent down and retrieved a small key from under the mat. He opened the door and slowly stepped inside.

"Something is not right." Sherlock concluded. "The fireplace is out, and the lights are turned on."

"Maybe they felt warm enough?" Molly suggested.

"Be logical." Sherlock said dryly. "It's morning in the countryside. The temperature is freezing. And the curtains-" Sherlock made his way to the floral curtains covering the windows, "Father never leaves the curtains drawn after breakfast-" he was about to reach for his phone when he realized he had tossed it into the river.

Just then, a white envelope on the coffee table caught his eye. It was addressed to him and he rolled his eyes upon recognizing the handwriting. Tearing the envelope open, he read the note aloud:

Do as you please in our humble abode but tidy up after. You know Mummy always hated cleaning up after you.

As your phone is currently unreachable for a reason I will not attempt to find out, I deem it appropriate to leave you this note. I do not appreciate you blocking my number on Dr Watson's phone. Have we not been raised by the same parents? Father would disapprove of your lack of decorum.

Mum and Dad are with me. I had them fetched last night after our brief conversation. Oh, and Mum says to help yourselves with anything in the fridge. And if you must know, no, dear brother. They are completely oblivious to what you are up to and who is keeping you company. Try not to do anything insane, Sherlock. Well, I suppose it's too late for that now.

I will not question your methods. Though I greatly question your sanity. Contact me soon.

-M

"Isn't that great? They're safe!" Molly smiled, John nodded in agreement.

"Ah, but what troubles me is the fact that we don't have anyone to make food for us." Sherlock folded the letter and threw it back on the coffee table.

The three shifted their attention to Jim who seemed to be snickering, viewing the frames on the wall.

"I don't see what's humorous, Moriarty." Sherlock rolled his eyes, slumping on to his Father's comfortable arm chair.

Curiosity got the better of the pathologist, shyly going to Jim's side, looking at a picture of Sherlock in his suspenders. Molly bit back a giggle, as she continued to look at the pictures.

John helped himself to a seat across Sherlock's, "Suspend-"

"Shut up." Sherlock barked, placing his fingertips on each other, recalling the baffling incident earlier.

"Have you made any enemies while you were playing dead?" John asked, struggling to steady himself and change the topic.

"Possibly, but I trust Mycroft's work. He picks up where I left off, cleaning everything in sight." The consulting detective replied, his tone monotonous.

"A new player, one where he's affiliated with the game master…" Moriarty added, taking a seat on the couch which not too long Molly joined in as well.

"You've been awfully quiet." Sherlock raised his head.

"M-me?" Molly stuttered, looking over her shoulder and then feeling foolish since there was no one else behind her.

"Yes, Molly." Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I take it you have questions."

"Well..." the pathologist hesitated for a moment, but continued when Jim gave her a reassuring look, "...Why am I here?" Molly asked. Yes, she was smart and yes, she was witty, but she never understood the action packed part of Sherlock's job.

"Excellent question. That is one I am yet to figure out." said Sherlock.

"Have you even got anything figured out?" quipped Jim.

"Do shut up." barked the detective, earning a giggle from the consulting criminal.

"Let's list out the probabilities, shall we?" Sherlock moved forward and propped his elbows on his knees. "First of all, we know that the person knows about you, he or she might use you for your specialties-"

"I highly doubt that, that numbskull can get a pathologist anywhere. So it might be because of her connections." Jim interrupted Sherlock.

"Us? No, there's complexity in the way that person made their move. They want Molly to be involved in all of this. They view her with some kind of importance as you will recall in the manner she was addressed in the first message we received..." Sherlock glanced at Molly who was calm, she was not afraid, not a slight fear in her eye. Sherlock smiled for a bit, impressed and somewhat proud. Molly felt eyes on her; she looked at Sherlock and smiled back.

A couple of minutes of silence were broken by an impatient Moriarty, standing up from his seat and brushing his suit down.

"While watching you think is simply exhilarating," Jim over pronounced in sarcasm, "I think I am going to make breakfast. Molly-dear, would you give me a hand?"

"Sure, Jim!" Molly stood up, following him to the kitchen. Sherlock's eyes trained on them as they vanished through the door.

"You may have gone crazy for deciding to trust Moriarty, but I have not." John hissed at Sherlock, "I'm following them."

"He won't do any harm, John." Sherlock said nonchalantly. "And this is merely a temporary truce. I absolutely do not trust him."

"Are you not at the very least worried about him fixing our food? Or perhaps the fact that there are knives in the kitchen which he can use against us?" John elaborated.

"You have a loaded gun. That is infinitely better than any of my mother's blunt knives."

John's frustration clawed at his insides. He debated whether to let the subject go or to beat the living daylights out of his stubborn best friend.

"I can see you are annoyed."

"Yeah, no kidding, Sherlock?" John barked. "I am in the countryside, away from my pregnant wife who could give birth at any moment, with a pathologist, Britain's most wanted, oh, right and the world's most egotistic arsehole-You know what? Sod this. Sod this. I'm going to follow them."

"You have to believe me when I say Moriarty is on our side this time. As long as Molly is involved, he won't do any harm." Sherlock said, effectively halting John before he reached the door.

"I don't understand." the soldier plopped down onto the couch.

"Perhaps Magnussen is right. You should have that on a shirt." This remark earned Sherlock a glare from his best friend. "Tell me, John. What have we learned from our encounter with Magnussen?"

"...That there are more psychopaths out there than you'd think?"

"Use your head." Sherlock retorted. "Remember, John. What did he tell us about human behaviour?"

John thought long and hard until he realized what Sherlock was talking about. "Pressure points." He breathed out. "Everyone has a pressure point. Mine would be Mary, Mycroft's would be you and-"

"Moriarty's would be...?"

John glanced from the closed kitchen door and then back at Sherlock, "...Molly Hooper."

"Exactly." Sherlock returned to his prayer position and closed his eyes.

A tense silence was in the atmosphere, broken when the door to the kitchen burst open. Jim came out, dragging Molly by the hand behind him. She was carrying a bag of goods sufficient for the four of them with her.

"Sherlock, we have to get out of here." Jim commanded.

When he saw that Sherlock and John were simply staring at him, he yelled irritably, "What are you doing? MOVE. WE NEED TO GET OUT. NOW."

The two shot up from their seats and followed Jim out the door, still waiting for an explanation.

"What happened? Why do we need to leave?" John demanded.

"Someone planted explosives on the stove." Jim said, "Molly noticed it."

Sherlock couldn't hide his look of relief. "Did you try to disengage it? I am aware of your background with explosives."

Jim stopped walking when they were far from the house, "It was a different kind of bomb. Too risky to fiddle with. I would try but..." taking a hold of Molly's hand, he whispered, "It wasn't worth the risk."

Molly tightened the hold, intertwining each other's fingers. It was just like before, of course, she was doing it unconsciously as she looked not a bit distracted.

"That's it! I'm drawing the line. I'm calling the police." John said with an agitated tone in his voice.

"No! We must not involve the authorities or else THAT will happen." Sherlock exclaimed, pointing out the bomb planted in the stove.

"This person is mad! Good God!" John exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air out of frustration.

"We should move. Leave the car. It's almost empty, anyway." Sherlock led the way off-road, ignoring the clasped hands that were pulling on his strings. "460 miles from here, I have a...friend who owes me. The estate would suffice as a hideaway, since they're a bit paranoid."

Molly gave an indifferent look, staying quiet as John offered to bring the bag as Sherlock looked over his shoulders, wasting no time to look for vehicles passing by.

"We need a ride." The curly-haired man looked left to right, hoping for a miracle. And so it was granted, an old married couple driving a pick-up truck, halted in front of them.

"May I help you, young ones?" A jolly old man with a light patch of greying hair asked politely.

"Ah yes, could you drives us 460 miles from here?" Sherlock bluntly replied. The seniors looked at each other at first, "We are too old for that, dear boy. I'm sorry we cannot."

Sherlock clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Never mind then, thank you-"

"Hold on a minute." Wilbur squinted his eyes as his eyes landed on Jim. "Anita..." he tapped his wife's hand and pointed at Jim so that she could see him.

"Oh my..." She breathed out.

Jim looked from side to side, feeling a bit annoyed with the sudden interest taken on him. He shrugged and cocked an eyebrow at the detective who looked at him for answers. Molly and John were beginning to get curious as well.

Perhaps the elderly couple had recognized him from the newspapers? That couldn't be, seeing as they would have also recognized Sherlock and John.

"Is there something wrong?" Sherlock asked, getting impatient as he watched the couple stare at one another as if they were speculating something.

"Ah, no! It's nothing." Wilbur exclaimed, clapping his hands together and giving the detective a smile. "My wife and I may not be able to drive you lot 460 miles from here, but I guess we can still bring you further."

"Wilbur! I just remembered! Our son left that big ol' car of his in the barn!" The elder woman said, smiling happily.

"Hmm...Might as well." said the old man and turned to Sherlock. "We would be glad to lend it to you. Hop in. We'll help you youngsters out."

Molly and John brightly smiled at the two and said thank you, while Sherlock and Jim hopped onto the back of the truck without saying a word.


	4. Ep3A: Napoleon's Ghosts

**AN:**

GUYS! We're absolutely FLOORED! THANK YOU SO MUCH GUYS! YOU get a dragon! And YOU get a dragon! EVERYBODY GETS A BLOODY DRAGON ! Seriously, you guys are awesome and we really appreciate every single one of you! Sending love and hugs to everyone!

i hope you enjoy this episode, because it was fun to make! As always, hit us up on tumblr and let's talk! We're quite open to new friends! question.. Any headcanons yet? i want to know :)

and Lily, yes, WE CERTAINLY GOT THE REFERENCE 3

-_Gloria_

Yes, like what Gloria said, _thank you so much_. We really hope you enjoy this part. We decided to divide it into two parts since it's a bit lengthy, but it was really fun to write. Oh, and also hopefully around this week, I'm gonna start posting some short side stories/drabbles/oneshots that are related to this fic on my own account (celinawrites). They aren't really necessary for understanding this story, but you might wanna look out for them. We'd like to think of them as bonus parts or some additional scenes. Gloria will be contributing some too, don't worry :) -_Celina_

As always, update alerts will be posted on our respective Tumblrs. Have a great day!

* * *

**Napoleon's Ghosts**

Jim seated himself at the corner of the truck and gazed out into the distance. His eyes never left the road which they were leaving behind, and he remained in his quiet state for most of the ride. His inexplicable calmness was of course something that did not slip his other three companions.  
John stared at the consulting criminal with much curiosity and suspicion. He looked at the small pathologist sitting in between him and Sherlock and found that she was also wondering about what Jim was thinking.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" John whispered, "He hasn't spoken a word since we've left the house."

"I don't know..." Molly mumbled, looking puzzled as ever. Sherlock heard their conversation but chose not to react on it as he did not see the matter with importance. He closed his eyes and brought his fingertips together and began to dive deep into the sea of his thoughts.

It was a little known fact that Molly Hooper is the single living human being who has had a glimpse of Jim Moriarty's human side. She knew him more than anyone in the world did, even more than the occupied detective seated on her right.

Even though Jim only intended on using her as a pawn in one of his games, he found himself unexpectedly drawing closer to the little mousey pathologist. A great debate within his own mind occurred the moment he decided to allow himself to feel for the unknowing woman who managed to claw through his dark and twisted exterior and find herself a place in his heart.

Jim didn't even realize he still had one until Molly found it for him.

The world will only ever see him as a despicable madman, but for some reason, Molly did not see him that way. Why would she accept him so whole-heartedly when he is an evil and nefarious villain, feared by many? Molly was not afraid of him. No. It unnerved him, to be completely honest. There were many nights when he'd stay awake, trying to deduce what might be the possibility for her different treatment towards him.

Different. That word sat uncomfortably in his mind. Molly Hooper was different. She wasn't like the other boring and ordinary people. At first, he thought she would be so easy to manipulate and get rid of right after he used her for his intended purpose, but he found his own plan backfiring on him miserably. As soon as Molly called off their relationship, he felt something that he hadn't felt in a long while. Something stung his gut and he did not understand why, not even with his brilliant mind. He was so used to be the one inflicting pain that he didn't realize he could still be on the receiving end of it.

Molly Hooper made him feel things, and he hated that.

On their way to the Holmes' residence, a million of ways to get rid of his company crossed Moriarty's mind. He could have rigged the car, set off the explosives in the kitchen. He could have done something to kill all of them and be on his way to find the maniac on his own and be over with it, but he did not. It bothered him why he did not. Something was holding him back, and he knew what, he just refused to think on it. It was not like him to act based on emotions. It was always about logic; about using his intelligence to get ahead, but this time it was like he was forced to show more of his human side. He wouldn't even be on this very truck if he didn't care. He didn't like the thought. It was utterly disgusting him.

Feeling the pair of eyes on him, Jim finally snapped out of his trance and joined the group in the middle of the truck. Though he was back to his normal behavior, tension lingered in the air.

"Is everything alright?" He spoke in a gentle tone to the pathologist before he could stop himself. Jim hated how vulnerable and weak he sounded.

"I should be the one asking _you_ that question." Molly lightly laughed, causing a faint smile to appear on his face. A part of Jim's mind was going ballistic at him for always degrading himself to this smitten idiot every time he was around her. _Some criminal mastermind you are_, he thought.

"I'm alright," he chuckled in spite of his mind screaming for him to shut up. "Just took a moment to collect myself."

"Okay." Molly smiled. John tried his best to act as if he wasn't there since being around Jim still irked him to no end, and Sherlock remained still with his eyes closed though his shoulders tensed as soon as he felt the consulting criminal approach them.

Almost an hour had passed by when they arrived at a quaint little farm. Horses, cows and plows were seen over looking hills. Wilbur turned the vehicle to the small dirt driveway leading to the small cottage in the distance. "We're almost there!" his wife, Anita, declared over her shoulder.

The four occupants smiled in response, only Molly and John's looked more sincere than the two geniuses'. Jim visibly cringed when Anita gave him another one of her endearing looks. _Annoying._

Jim looked out to take in the view of the countryside when John abruptly grabbed him by the collar and gave him a threatening look. Molly was startled, and Sherlock opened his eyes but remained calm. In a dangerous tone, the army doctor whispered, "Listen to me, Moriarty. This elderly couple is innocent. I don't want you dragging any of them into danger, do you understand?"

Jim only responded by giving him a deadpan look, and then an eye roll, "Please, Doctor Watson. Now is not the time-"

John tightened his grip on Jim's collar, making the consulting criminal flash him a sinister grin, "I swear, if you make one move..." John glanced at his gun tucked inside the inner pocket of his jacket.

"_Relax._" Jim said in a crooning voice, "I'll be a good boy..." and then chuckled. "I just can't wait for all of this to be over. Once I get my web back, you and your _looovely_ wife will be on my list."

"_Why you_-" John raised his fist but was interrupted by the detective.

"John." Sherlock spoke in an authoritative tone, "Now is not the time."

The soldier took a moment to compose himself, his eyes not leaving Jim who was still smiling. Once he finally got his heart rate down, he violently shoved Jim backwards and leaned back against the side of the truck. Molly placed her hand on John's shoulder to calm him down. The consulting criminal still flinched at the pathologist who showed no trace of fear despite him threatening to kill one of her friends and his wife.

"Is everything alright there?" Wilbur asked in a cheery tone, having heard the thud of Jim's back colliding against a pile of wood.

"Y-yes! Everything is fine!" Molly was quick to respond before the two geniuses replied with a snarky remark.

Jim chuckled under his breath and made the mistake of glancing at the brunette who was giving him another disapproving look. His amusement immediately simmered down, and he felt ashamed of himself. Once again he allowed Molly to take control, causing a wave of frustration to run through him. He gulped, clenched his jaw and sharply tore his gaze from her.

Just then, the truck's engine died and the elderly couple dismounted the vehicle. "We're here." Anita smiled, propping her hands on her waist as she watched the younger ones get down.

"How beautiful." Molly said in admiration for the farm, Sherlock helping her dismount.

"It is." The consulting detective agreed, never letting go of her hands as they took in the scenery.

Sherlock sneaked a glance over at Molly's who seemed not to mind their intimate contact. He smirked inwardly, as the old elderly couple looked at the two with nostalgia.

They walked into the homey little cottage that stood by the farm after the persistence of Anita. She told them that they rarely had visitors.

A couple of hundred yards from them was a bright red barn where the car belonging to the elderly couple's son supposedly left.

The interior was quaint and made for comfort. The living room was filled with cushions with many floral patterns, and seats, tables, and a rocking chair that was hand carved decades ago. The walls were decorated with various antique frames, and paintings from anonymous artists. A lonely brass chandelier hung from the ceiling.

"You have a lovely home!" Molly exclaimed, looking around her. She already feels at home, the warmth emitting from the lovely old couple and the comfortable vibe the house gave done her in. Sherlock stepped inside after her, followed by Jim, and then John who was still carrying the bag they brought with them from the Holmes' residence.

"It will do." Sherlock remarked, before John jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. Sherlock didn't appreciate the slight pang of pain on his sides as he rubbed the place where it hurt.

"Have you lot eaten? I must say I am quite surprised to see such young lads in the country." Wilbur asked, taking a seat in one comfortable armchair. He almost sunk into its soft cushions.

"No, we have not." Sherlock answered for everyone. "Surely you'd notice tha-"

"I apologize for the behavior of my friend." Jim interjected. He spoke with a friendly, slightly awkward tone in his voice. "What he means to say is that we absolutely appreciate you having us here."

Sherlock, John, and Molly realized that Jim was pulling an act. He was becoming 'Jim from IT' all over again. The consulting criminal gave the doctor beside him a telling look as if to say, "There. Are you happy now?" and received an approving nod from him.

"What's your name, dear boy?" Anita asked Jim with a cheery tone as she walked into the room. She gave him an endearing smile which made him slightly uncomfortable once again. This time, Jim didn't even bother to hide his sneer. Sherlock sensed his discomfort and immediately scanned him from head to toe. Something wasn't right though he couldn't place a finger on it-and he hated not knowing.

"Well," Jim took a moment to find his voice, but then cleared his throat to speak. "I am Jim Mor-"

"Morgan." Sherlock finished for him. He thought it would be wiser if their identities were secret. "He's Jim Morgan, I am William Scott."  
He gestured to John and Molly, "They are Jack Hamish,"-John squirmed at the mention of his middle name-"and Margaret Holmes."

The two men's eyebrows raised at the mention of the last alias. Jim had an amused smile on his face while Molly's jaw dropped in astonishment. Sherlock was more than glad to ignore their reactions. A triumphant smile was plastered on his face.

"Why don't you city folk stay for a while? Brief us about what's happening out of the rural areas and all." Wilbur said, shifting a bit on his chair for Anita to sit.

The group settled down on the comfortable living room. Jim and Molly sat down next to each other while John stayed put on the arm rest since he didn't want to be far from the consulting criminal for good measure, in case he snapped. Sherlock occupied the armchair across the elderly couple's.

"Oh yes. We don't really know what's happening. You see, we live so far that we don't get the paper, or a signal for the telly."

"I see." Jim said, crossing his legs, "Well, we would love to stay and chat for a while."  
He was no longer fidgety. It was as if something had completely taken away his discomfort and not knowing what caused it in the first place irked Sherlock to no end.

"How wonderful!" Anita clasped her hands together. "Are you two together?" She suddenly asked Jim and Molly, sensing the closeness between the two.

"Oh no-"

"We aren't-"

The two of them denied in unison, looking at each other for a frantic moment. Molly even had a tinge of redness on her cheeks.

"No, they are not." Sherlock interjected.

Anita pursed her lips to hide the smile on her face. She looked at her husband knowingly. "I see. I'm truly sorry."

"Oh, no." Jim let out a fake nervous chuckle, "It's perfectly fine. We get that a lot. Don't we, Marge?"

Caught off guard, Molly pursed her lips and nodded awkwardly. Sherlock did not appreciate this. Anita beamed at the couple once more and clasped her hands together before standing up, "Now, let me prepare some food for us..."

"I'd love to help!" Molly said, standing from her position.

"Me too!" Jim followed after the two women, looking over his shoulder to give Sherlock a sly smirk. One that the elder male didn't see.

"I'm just going to get something upstairs." Wilbur excused himself, leaving John and Sherlock in the room.

"Really, Sherlock?" John scoffed, "Margaret Holmes?"

"It was out of impulse." Sherlock said, sounding more defensive than he should.

"I'm sure." John said, suppressing a chuckle as he pat his best friend on the shoulder, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and call my wife."

For a while, Sherlock remained seated in the living room all alone. He was rummaging every part of his Mind Palace to help him explain Moriarty's odd behavior, but unfortunately no useful information was coming his way. Out of annoyance, he shot up from his seat, ruffled his hair and decided to have a look at what was happening in the kitchen.

"Mo-Margaret." Sherlock called her out, he was standing just beside the door way, his arms behind his back as he waited for her.

"Oh! Uhm, what is it, Will?" Molly wiped her hands on her apron, Anita insisted on lending it.

"...Are you alright?" Sherlock asked in whisper, there close proximity visible to everyone, even from the kitchen.

Molly was silent at first. Sherlock Holmes never asked that question, it was a simple one and yet hard to answer. "Well... We're running away from a dangerous psychopath who wants me to be involved in all of this. What do you think?" She answered in one breath, Sherlock took his time before he could reply, but Molly snickered, gaining his attention.

"I've been through most of your cases and the only thing that's missing is my involvement in the 'field' so this wraps up the whole package." She simply put it, "I may enjoy being domestic, but I'm open to anything. Though it's kinda scary, isn't it?"

And with that response, Sherlock immediately grew a smirk. Stepping into the room and seeing the two interact, John couldn't help but roll his eyes. His best friend was bloody in love with the woman in front of him, but he would never acknowledge it.

"For first timers like you, yes." Sherlock replied with a very hushed tone. "But...you're not scared of Moriarty?"

"Uhmm...No. No, I'm not." Molly replied as if it was an obvious answer.

The two held eye contact, when suddenly, an overly cheery Jim broke them apart carrying a spoon as he floated a hand underneath.

"Marge, is this alright?" Jim gently blew on what seems to be some stew. Molly gladly accepted it, opening her mouth as Moriarty fed her, earning a scowl from Sherlock.

"Mmm, it's really good! How'd you make it?" Molly said brightly.

Back in the kitchen, Anita could see the huddled trio. Subtly smiling as she saw Wilbur, her husband going down with a few sweaters and what appears to be journals in his hands.

"Let me show you then." Jim smirked at Sherlock who remained quiet. Moriarty held out his hand, which Molly placed hers as Jim guided her down the kitchen to show her how his stew was done. Anita noticed the undeniable chemistry between the two, she felt giddy as she would sneak glances ever so often at their direction.

"You are a very lucky girl, dear." Anita happily said to the pathologist. Jim was occupied with chopping a few more potatoes.

"Yes, I am and I'm thankful for it." Molly replied with the same tenacity.

"When I met Wilbur, he was certainly not the type of man any woman would fall for. He was abrasive and misunderstood by many." Anita gave a soft smile whilst stirring the stew.

"And you were the woman who changed him?" Molly speculated with curiosity. Her hair was a bit of a mess due to the close proximity of heat.

"Goodness, no...At least I don't think so..." The older woman chuckled light-heartedly. Fixing her apron as she settled the ladle down and sat on the stool of her island.

"Huh? So what happened?" The pathologist was intrigued, following Anita as she sat beside her.

"Well, I think that the one who changed him was my best friend." Anita explained, she can see the enthusiasm seeping from Molly's nose as she gladly continued to tell her story, "Back in high school, I was madly in love with a handsome man named, Wilbur. He would always go to school with only one friend named, Jeremy Grout. They were hated and feared, because they were too different. Everyone loathed them, oh! He was a delinquent. One faithful morning, when I was on my way to the academy there I saw on the side of the big oak tree was Wilbur; he was cradling a small animal. It was like a dream, really. He looked so gentle and amused as he heard the young purr of the animal. I was taken in by that sight, the next thing I knew I was right beside him, playing with the fragile kitten in his arms. Not too long after that, I confessed my feelings for him..."

"And? And? What happened?" Molly asked, her elbows propped on the island as she rested her chin on both hands.

"He said that he wasn't right for me, that I would only cry and get hurt if we had a relationship. You can obviously tell I was heartbroken. From then on he avoided me.

"My best friend Marybeth saw me in the ugliest of states. I would attend the Academy with a glum look on my face. I always defended Wilbur every time someone bad-mouthed him. I made some enemies and all that and frankly, Marybeth was getting tired of seeing me as a dead person walking in those halls. So one day, she marched up to Wilbur and slapped him right on his left cheek in front of me! Of course, Wilbur was shocked. I could never forget the words Marybeth spat out.

"'You should snap out of it, you little bugger! Being part of a relationship is helping each other out through rough times and going through that rocky path together! I know you love her and she loves you, what's so difficult about that?! There's no right or wrong in love! You better take care of her! Or God so help me I will not hesitate to kill you!' I tried to stop her, but she was an outspoken gal." Anita giggled, she could see Jim peering over them and even snickering at her story.

"And?" Molly asked.

"And the rest was history." The older woman reached for Molly's hands, brushing lightly as she advised, "A man is always a man. He loves like a man and thinks like a man should think. But it takes a woman to change his life, to bring out the best in him in every possible way."

Molly gave a warm smile of understanding and nodded. At that moment, Anita and Molly had a mother and daughter connection. Jim gave a light smirk as he saw the two getting along well.

"While they're doing that, let me show you some drawings my son made." Wilbur happily offered, setting down a pile of books on the coffee table.

Some were older than the others with the pages yellowing and the black ink and pencil marks slightly fading. Sherlock and John brought themselves to attention, carefully scanning page by page of the various books. The content wasn't odd like some artists' who make completely abstract and meaningless works. The quality of the sketches were very detailed and realistic. They looked almost like photographs, or sceneries waiting for life to be breathed onto them.

"Look, this is a familiar sight." John pointed out to one particular page with a nostalgic smile, "It looks like a battlefield."

"Ahhh, yes, yes. He liked to draw these from the city. Mostly just inspiration from what he's seen. He went there now and then. Told us all about it." Wilbur explained, John looked over at Sherlock who looked back.

The curious detective scanned his side of the journal to find various drawings of scarves. He furrowed his eyebrows and opened another journal to find a distinguishable hairstyle-a pony tail. He flipped the pages to find hospitals, scalpels and...dead bodies?

John frantically grabbed another one from the table. This journal looked newer compared to the others since the pages were only slightly yellow. Wilbur saw what John was holding and then nodded, "That's the last one." he said, completely oblivious to the sudden interest the two men have taken on his son's art.

Cautiously flipping through the pages, John saw that it was filled with intricate sketches of webs, spiders, and at the center of the book, a page was folded. He looked at Wilbur for permission and the older man granted it. Slowly unfolding the page, John's eyes widened upon recognizing the drawing. The entire page was covered with sketches of the crown jewels. Odd. Very odd.

Sherlock seemed to sense his unease as he looked over his friend's shoulder and saw the content of the page. A tense atmosphere lifted in the room once again.

"Sir, what's the name of your son?" John asked, finally finding his voice.

"Oh, his name is-"

"Everyone, food is ready." Anita crooned, incidentally cutting off her husband's reply.


	5. Ep3B: Napoleon's Ghosts: Unleashed

**AN:**

THIS IS SO FREAKING AWESOME, YOU GUYS. You are the best readers ever. Thank you, thank you so much. YOU DESERVE ALL THE GOLD THAT LIES BENEATH THE LONELY MOUNTAIN (don't tell Thorin I said that...or Smaug) BUT SERIOUSLY, YOU ARE AWESOME. Now, I gotta say this one's a bit shorter than the others, but it contains a turning point in the story so I guess that makes up for the length. Don't worry. The next part's gonna be longer. Message us on Tumblr alright? Let's be friends. We don't bite (when we don't need to. HA HA -just kidding) but seriously, if you have headcanons/theories/whatever about this story or series 4 or if you just wanna say hi, you are free to drop by our ask boxes. We love making new friends. -_Celina_

YO, YO WAZZAP :)) how are we doing today? How does it feel to wake up being so awesome?!BECAUSE SERIOUSLY, YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME! we are very grateful 3 honestly, I should give you hugs! *hugs all* remember, you can talk to us about anything :) we're ultra friendly and we encourage you guys to even exchange fangirliness or even whatever you want with us :) we enjoy a good conversation!

(I'm taking prompts right now, so if you guys want a oneshot or a drabble, don't hesitate to just message me in my ask on tumblr :) ) you guys are such an inspiration to us! THANK YOU LOTS! AND MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU! WE RAISE OUR WANDS TO YOU GUYS !

_-Gloria the WoolySheep_

* * *

**Napoleon's Ghosts: Unleashed**

"Better go there quick, before the wife goes ballistic." Wilbur chuckled, patting John and Sherlock's elbows.

Disappointed to not have heard Wilbur's response, the two men decided to dismiss the topic and follow the elder male into the kitchen to avoid arousing suspicion. Jim and Molly were already settled at a round mahogany table with Anita occupying the seat across the pathologist.

John couldn't help but let his eyes land on Jim. He was eyeing him skeptically which Jim just responded to with an extremely annoyed expression. The consulting criminal didn't realize Sherlock was also observing him as he sat down on the chair next to Molly.

"Is there something wrong?" said Molly in a hushed tone to the marveling detective.

"Oh no. Everything is fine." Sherlock said plainly, resting his elbows on the table and finally taking his eyes off the uncomfortable Jim Moriarty.

"Okay..." Molly decided it was for the better to resign from the conversation, although she didn't believe him one bit that everything was fine.

Wilbur finally sat down with them on Anita's right and gave the food placed on the table and approving smile, "How wonderful!" he exclaimed, breathing in the savory aroma of the delicious stew in front of him.

"It was Jim's recipe." chimed Anita.

"Oh, it was?" asked the old man, looking up to the unsuspecting Irish man.

"Y-yes," Jim cleared his throat and assumed his angelic facade once again, "It's been in the family for years. I thought you might like it."

"Oh, has it?" The detective mumbled under his breath with his eyes shut, not exactly expecting anyone to hear him, but all of the heads round the table turned to his direction.

"What do you mean?" Molly chuckled.

Sherlock looked up and found all expectant eyes on him, except for Jim's who seemed to avoid looking at him at all costs. He shifted his gaze to John who gave him a lecturing look before huffing and flashing everyone a fake smile, "Nothing. Shall we eat?"

The tension in the air broke and everyone turned their attention back to the food that was on the table. Throughout the entire meal, Anita and Wilbur kept offering the younger four more helpings of food, especially Jim.

At one instance, the pitcher of water had already been emptied and Jim saw that Molly had just drained the last drops from her glass. He decided to go to the kitchen to fetch some more.

"I should get some water-" whispered Jim, before being interrupted by the scraping of Anita's chair.

"It's alright, my dear. Allow me." Said the wife sweetly, taking the empty pitcher with her to the kitchen.

"Oh no, it's fine, I can-"

"It's alright, boy." Wilbur chimed, earning the attention of the young man. "You should stay." the warmth in his eyes did not slip anyone's attention and rendered John and the detective more suspicious than ever.

A little later during the meal, Jim caught Anita looking his way again and it was at that moment when his annoyance got the better of him, "Is there something on my face?" he asked, still managing to sound polite although his eyes twitched a bit.

Startled, the woman shook her head and laughed lightly, "Oh no. I am so sorry, dear boy."

"You keep looking at him like you've seen something familiar." Sherlock suddenly spoke, causing John to clear his throat and shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"William-"

"Really, Anita. What is wrong?" Sherlock asked, ignoring John's attempt to stop him. Tilting his head, the detective examined the couple who looked back at him innocently.

Molly felt curious as well but decided to remain silent and just watch how things would turn out. Jim however looked the other way to avoid getting caught by Sherlock or John's gaze.

"He just reminds us of someone." Wilbur chuckled, relieving the room of the heavy air that lingered. "That's all."

Sherlock nodded, however was not completely satisfied by the response. Not much was said since then, and everyone dined in silence. Every now and then the old couple would talk about living in the countryside and John or Molly would listen, nod along, and share stories about the city in return while Sherlock and Jim would space out entirely and not even pretend to be interested with the discussion. There were too many thoughts running in either's minds to bother joining in with the merriment. Molly was clearly enjoying herself, and that was enough for the both of them.

At the end of the meal, Anita offered to make some tea. Molly and Jim stood up and gave her a hand while John and Sherlock remained seated with Wilbur. Upon returning, the two ladies went back to their seats and watch Jim gently place the tray carrying the teapot and the teacups in the middle of the table.

"You seem to know your way around the kitchen well, Jim." chuckled Anita, referring to how the young man found it easy to work his way around the house.

"Well, your arrangement seemed quite obvious." Jim replied, watching Molly pour tea for everyone.

"You are an extraordinary young man." Wilbur said out of the blue, earning the attention of all of the people around the table. Jim honestly did not know how to respond to that so he remained speechless.

John sat up as he took the cup handed to him by the pathologist. Images of the drawings in the journal flashed in his head, and he was beginning to wonder how long he could keep all of this information to himself. Pages and pages of those odd, peculiar things. The scarves, the battlefield, the spider webs, the lady in a pony tail, the dead bodies, and the crown jewels-

"J-Jack are you alright?" Molly asked the startled soldier. Everyone was looking at him as well.

He didn't realize he banged his fist on the table in attempt to stop himself from thinking. "Mhmm?" He finally found his voice, "Yes, I am fine, Marge. Just thought of something..."

John then lowered his eyes at Jim whose jaws clenched. The sudden tension between the two got heavier by the second. The soldier turned to his side and found Sherlock looking back at him. In one glance, he knew they were thinking of the same thing. Fortunately, the couple were too immersed in their stories about the life in the countryside to notice the heavy atmosphere.

Molly remained at the edge of her seat while watching the boys. She knew something was going on but couldn't arrive at the same conclusion having not seen the journals.

Jim finally raised his head and looked at John with a searing glare, as if to dare him to speak. He did not expect the doctor to oblige so eagerly.

"Anita, Wilbur," John raised his voice a bit, earning the attention of the couple, "I would love to hear more about your son."

"Please, do tell us." Sherlock added, leaning forward. Jim suddenly widened his eyes and crossed his arms, confirming his deduction that the two men have discovered something they shouldn't know about.

"Why the sudden interest?" Anita asked.

"Well, your husband showed us some of his journals. The ones, the ones with the drawings?" John said, avoiding eye contact with Jim at all costs, "He seems to be a very good artist."

"You showed them his drawings?" she turned to her husband who nodded back, "Oh..."

"I-is there something wrong?" Molly cautiously asked, sensing the sudden change in the couple's disposition.

"Those drawings..." Anita began, her face fallen with grief, "Are one of the last things we received from him..."

John tilted his head and leaned forward for her to continue, but Wilbur sat up to put an arm around his wife and spoke, "Our son left for the city about ten years ago. Well, at first I was against it like any other father in the world would be. But I knew that it was time for him to leave the nest. Discover his own life, and all."

"But he was such a good boy." Anita joined in. Sherlock and Molly were now listening to their story earnestly, "He said he found a job as an artist and during his free time, he would wander around the city, sketching these random things in his journal. And whenever he visited us by the end of every year, he'd leave that journal with us..."

"Those books were our windows to the other side of the world. They brought us happiness. We're not rich, y' know? We couldn't afford to provide the life our son deserved, wanted...but we loved him, and even if he didn't say it enough, we knew he loved us too." Wilbur looked at his wife who nodded at him as if to give him permission, "Our son, our good boy, came back to us about three years ago. He came to us looking all disheveled and he seemed distracted for a reason he wouldn't tell us."

"He didn't even stay for dinner that night." Anita continued, "He just gave us the last journal, and bags and bags-"

"There were a truckload of them-"

"-of money! Enough to keep us alive for ten lifetimes! And then he started to cry, and my husband and I didn't know what was wrong. He wouldn't tell us what's wrong...and then he started to laugh..."

John leaned back at what they have all learned so far. The information was overwhelming him, and it was causing shivers to run up his spine. _He is mad. He is mad._ He thought over and over. Molly took in a lungful of air to help process their story. Sherlock remained focused on the two, moving only to blink his eyes.

"He made us promise to never leave the countryside for our own safety." Anita said, her eyebrows furrowed, "An odd request, that is. But I didn't question it. We weren't planning on leaving anyway."

"We wanted him to stay. Ask him what happened in the city, why he came home looking like...like that, but he simply won't have it! Insisted on leaving the same night! It was very unlike him. Mind you, I was getting nervous-

"Anita and I thought he ran into a bad lot while he was away, but that couldn't be. No...our son, he was a good boy. He was misunderstood by many, but in our eyes he was always a good boy."

"But if there was one thing that really bothered me that night, it was how he looked back." Anita said in one breath.

Jim raised his head upon hearing this and began to listen as if this was news to him, though he still avoided looking at anyone on the table.

"He looked back," Anita repeated accompanied by a short chuckle, "We've watched him walk away from us every single time he visited. Not once did he look back. But that night, he stopped in the middle of the road and turned around to look at us once more."

The older couple stopped talking for a while, making John, Sherlock, and Molly wonder if that was the end of their story. But before any of them could press for more details, Anita took her husband's hand and started once more.

"A couple of months after his last visit, a friend of his came to us."

"A friend?" This seemed to have caught Sherlock's attention.

"Yes, yes. He said they were very close." Anita continued.

"He..." Sherlock whispered to himself, furrowing his eyebrows. Then he looked at Jim who had his head turned away from the table.

"He said that our son-our boy," Anita took a steadying breath, tightening her hold on her husband's hand-

"Had died."

John and Molly's eyes grew wide in shock.

"I am so sorry to hear that." Molly said, placing a hand on Anita's. John sharply turned his attention to the detective next to him as if to ask for a reaction. But Sherlock remained silent with a blank expression on his face.

"No worries, dear. He's on the side of the angels now." Anita smiled.

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the room when-

"What was his name?!" Sherlock suddenly bellowed, smacking both of his hands on the table and causing the porcelain china to make a tinkling sound. The startled couple nearly jumped out of their seats while alerted by instinct, Molly and John sat up to help calm the detective down.

"William-" John tried to reason with Sherlock but was blatantly ignored. The detective shrugged off his and Molly's grasps and planted his hands firmly on the table, leaning forward.

"Tell me his name. I need to know his name," Sherlock demanded, but then managed to get a grip of himself enough to lower his voice, "Please."

Anita and Wilbur shook off their shock and managed to communicate with each other through their eyes. After a moment, both nodded. And with a fearful gulp, Wilbur spoke.

"Richard. Richard Brook."

At the mention of the name, Sherlock immediately pushed himself back and stalked towards the receiving area without looking back. John faced Jim who still wasn't moving. Molly was beginning to realize what was going on and couldn't utter a single word.

"We need to go." Sherlock's authoritative voice echoed through the house. "Now!" The front door burst open and out went the detective.

John, Molly, and Jim immediately stood up to follow him.

"I'm so sorry for his behavior-" John began apologizing to the confused couple as he wore his coat "-he's suffering a severe head trauma."

"Thank you so much for having us. We are very grateful-" Molly joined in, giving the elderly couple a quick hug.

Jim stared at the couple for a few seconds before deciding hugging each of them tightly, "You take care, alright?" He said, steadying his voice.

The old couple nodded at him and gave him a warm smile which, for the first time the entire visit, he reciprocated but then wiped it off his face a second after.

John looked half amused and half mortified at the sight. This was the first time he had seen Jim with any real, genuine, human emotion like Molly claimed him to have.

Wilbur retrieved a silver key from a box by the mantelpiece and gave it to Jim. "Here's the key to my son's car. We don't have any use for it now."

"Yes, finally, thank you." Jim said, a slight hint of annoyance now returning to his voice. And in a flash, the three of them were running towards Sherlock who was already halfway to the barn.

"Sherlock!" Jim yelled as he approached him, "Sherlock-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence for Sherlock had tackled him to the ground. Jim fought back, turning them over and motioning to punch the detective when John lifted him by the arms and held him in a vice-grip.

Molly rushed to Sherlock's side, helping him up into an upright position, but when he was just about to charge at Jim, she blocked his way and held her arms out.

"HOW DARE YOU." Sherlock yelled, "SHAME ON YOU. NOW IT ALL MAKES SENSE. THAT ODD BEHAVIOR OF YOURS WHEN WE MET THEM. YOUR PARENTS. WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT?"

Jim remained silent.

"THOSE WERE YOUR PARENTS-" Sherlock pointed at the house that was now far away from earshot. "YOU KEPT THEM IN THE DARK. ALL THESE YEARS."

"IT WAS THE ONLY WAY I COULD PROTECT THEM." Jim finally yelled back in defense. "THEY'RE BROOKS. THEY ARE HARMLESS. THERE WAS NO REASON TO INVOLVE THEM IN MY GAMES."

At that response, Sherlock lost whatever patience he had left in him and motioned to attack Jim once more. With the rage he was feeling at that moment, he wouldn't be surprised if he murdered the consulting criminal. But just as he was about to advance on him, Molly blocked his path and held him back with all the strength she had. "STOP IT, SHERLOCK." She yelled. "Please, just stop..."

His resolve slowly diminished once he felt Molly embrace him. "Stop it. Just please...don't do this..."

"You would do anything you could for the people, for the people you..._love_." Jim spat out the last word with so much venom in his voice, as if he was utterly repulsed by it, and then unconsciously glanced at Molly for a split second. "You'd know that, Sherlock. You jumped off a building for your friends."

"That friend of yours. That must have been Moran! Where. Is. He." Sherlock asked with irritation fuming out of his nose.

"Dead! It was an obvious order, really. Kill him if anything went wrong." Jim said without hesitation, referring to that time when he seemingly shot himself on the rooftop of the hospital.

Sherlock was steadying his breathing as Molly pulled away from him. John finally let go of Jim and propped his hands on his waist, shaking his head in disbelief.

"My, my. You have gotten really slow." Jim mumbled, "I am disappointed. Really, I am." he turned around and continued to walk towards the barn with Molly following after him since John and Sherlock were rooted on the spot.

"Pressure point." John said, breaking the silence. "Moriarty has two."

"Apparently." said Sherlock as he watched his nemesis pull the barn's door open to reveal another car."

"Are you coming?" Jim called irritably at the two as he entered the driver's seat.

* * *

In a high-ceilinged room with walls and archways the shade of ivory, and crystal lights illuminating the majestic halls, a tall woman wearing a dark pantsuit strode past the columns with her black high heels clicking and clacking against the marble floor. She clutched her phone in her hand like her life depended and on it, and her red lips quirked into a small smile when she felt the device vibrate.

"They're on the move." the message that came in read.

She smirked.


	6. Ep4: Rivalry Turned Friendship

**AN:**

GUUUUUUUUYYYYSSSSSS! *TACKLE HUGS EVERYBODEH CUZ REASONS* Thank you very much! you guys are too kind and we are most humbled by your reviews and we're so happy you enjoyed the last episode! *bows* I love you guys so much! You are all awesome and if I could hug each and every singly one of you I would! Anyway, this is a nice episode cuz Molliarty and Sherlolly feels reasons! I'M GUILTY FOR THE FLUFF IN THE CAR! (SPOILER ALERT, GREAT JOB GLORIA) As always, hit us up and let's talk! Have a great day/night everybody :)

_-Gloria_

Soooo...this chapter doesn't involve that much tension because _goodness_, we need a break from that lol. This has been one of my favorites to write so far. There are some Molliarty and Sherlolly moments ahead so hope you enjoy that. Posted a Strings FAQ on my Tumblr. The link is on my Navigation tab. As usual, thank you so much for all of the support this story is getting. You wonderful people are the best. We love you, we love you! Have a fantastic day :3 _-Celina _

_celinalzr | tumblr_

_teme16 | tumblr_

* * *

**Rivalry Turned Friendship**

It was a long, tiring drive. Everyone was dead silent. Sherlock was on the passenger seat while Molly and John occupied the back.

"I'm assuming you want me to explain?" Jim broke the unnerving numbness, his eyes remained fixed on the road.

"Obviously." Sherlock said, a fume of anger in his voice.

"Long story short, money greedy millionaire offered to buy our land. Parents didn't bite the check. They continued to torture us and so, I tortured them in their own game." Jim replied in a monotonous manner. "It's where I started."

Sherlock remained silent though he wasn't completely satisfied with the explanation, as did the two in the back. Jim never liked dull atmospheres, so he continued to chat, "She likes you." eyeing Molly through the mirror.

The pathologist tucked in her head a bit, the sensation of heat crept up to her face. She realized Jim was referring to his Mother. Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance, tapping his fingers on his knee.

"You know, Sherlock, you know too much already..." Jim said, licking his dried up lips.

"Hmm, and I suppose you'll plot out a plan to kill me and John and take Molly along with you?" the annoyed detective replied with both sarcasm and certainty.

"I could, but I know someone who wouldn't let me." Moriarty smirked as well as Sherlock. Their topic lightened the mood as so she did in their lives.

Watching the two geniuses interact as if they were not treading on dangerous waters, John couldn't help but feel angry. "Sorry to burst your bubble- uh, no. _I'm not,_ but just to remind you, THERE'S A PSYCHO ON THE LOOSE!" he interjected, flailing his arms up.

"It's not safe to talk about that matter here. For all we know they are watching us right this minute. We have to wait until we get to the place we need to be."

Molly's phone began to ring aggressively. She mumbled an apology once again as she took her phone from her pocket. It was from another blocked number. The message read:

"Very good, Mr. Holmes. Now you're using your head."

Sherlock and Jim looked at each other for a moment. Nodding in agreement, Jim abruptly pulled he car over to the side of the road. Once they went into a full stop, Sherlock shot out of his seat and frantically searched for something.

"Sherlock? What's going on?" Molly got out of the vehicle, along with John and Jim.

"We're under surveillance. There's something in this car." Sherlock looked at the hood, examining each corner. "This person knew we were going to end up with the Brooks. I should have known. All of this was a trap..."

"Why can't we throw the phone-"

"We need to communicate if we're going to play. If we ever throw it out, we'll probably get killed." Jim didn't let John finish. He felt irritated that he had to explain something that was already obvious.

"_Aha!_" Sherlock snatched a little camera the size of a marble just on the wipers. "We will _play_ without this!" He whispered on to the device, before throwing on the ground and violently crushing it with his heel.

Molly's phone rang again, and all four of them became silent. Before she could press any button, Sherlock snatched it from her hand and answered for her.

"Who is this?" Sherlock let out a tense breath. The other three kept their eyes on him, but relaxed when they saw the detective roll his eyes in annoyance. What Sherlock heard on the phone was a familiar voice that ticked him off. 'It's Mycroft', the detective mouthed irritably to three.

"Brother mine, why is there a bomb in Mother's kitchen?"

"You mean it's still there? It didn't detonate?" Sherlock huffed, feeling oddly relieved that it was just his brother calling. He leaned against the side of the car as he continued to converse.

"Why do you sound so relaxed? I just told you _there is a bomb in our bloody kitchen_."

Sherlock was about to retort when Mycroft cut him off, "I tried calling the telephone, no one answered. Best checked afterwards and found no one."

"Forever the worrier, you are." Sherlock grumbled.

"Had I not decided to poke my head into your business, our house would have been blown to bits."

Sherlock clicked his tongue, evidently all bored out "Well, I have to go now-"

"I am not yet finished, Sherlock!" Mycroft demanded from the other line. He lowered his voice before speaking again, "I looked into the accident you informed me about."

The detective suddenly tensed up at the mention of the incident that occurred a few nights ago. Upon officially meeting face to face with Moriarty since his return, the person pulling the strings had made their first move by crashing a car through the window of the abandoned cafe. In the driver's seat was a man whom Sherlock recognized to be Agent Connor Wade, the man Mycroft hired to keep an eye on Sherlock during the 2 years of him dismantling Moriarty's connections. Agent Wade did not interfere with the cases the detective was handling, but he stayed close enough to report to Mycroft and assist the younger Holmes in combat whenever necessary.

"What about it?" asked the detective, feeling a bit interested again.

"Agent Wade was indeed the person in the car."

"I know," Sherlock droned, "But did you find anything?"

"Nothing of importance." Mycroft replied accompanied by an exasperated sigh, "Although we did find something in the glove compartment. I do not know if this holds any significance to your case-"

"Quit dwaddling. What is it, Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded.

It took a few seconds before the older Holmes replied. "A yellow rose."

The silence from the other end of the line made the older brother slightly anxious, "When are you planning to involve me in this?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Hmm?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows as his thoughts were torn away from the yellow rose, "Involve you? You have nothing to do with this."

"I am affiliated to the murdered man, dear brother."

"Yes, but the message was intended for _me_."

"I'm sorry, what's going on?" John interjected, earning Sherlock's attention. "Is your brother offering his help? Sherlock, I suggest you take it. This will all be easier if he's on our side."

Molly and Jim remained silent, anticipating the detective's reaction.

Sherlock stopped and looked at John as if he just suggested they went sky-diving. "_Absolutely not!_ Have you gone mad? Mycroft will only make things worse."

"_I am right here._" said a very cross Holmes on the phone but was ignored.

"Would you swallow your pride just this once?" The doctor raised his voice, "Lives are at stake here, Sherlock. We need all the help we can get."

"We will manage without _him_." the detective bared his teeth in annoyance before returning his attention to the phone.

"You are very stubborn." Mycroft reprimanded. "I don't understand why you are always so reluctant in letting me assist you. You should be grateful for my interference."

"I don't need-"

"I believe you have a case to attend to, yes? Call me if you need me. Of course, I'll expect that will happen very soon." And with that, the older Holmes ended the conversation, leaving his irritated younger brother on the other line.

John shook his head disapprovingly. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jackets before asking impatiently, "How long 'til we get there?"

"Not too long from here-"

"By midnight or sooner, I hope. I need to...haunt a few clients." Jim smirked, making a telephone gesture with his hand as he took the lead and entered the driver's seat once more.

John looked at the consulting criminal incredulously, "How did he even have the time to-"

"We were in his house, John." Sherlock scowled before he made his way back to the car. "The only place that slipped me when I took down all of his connections. His parents' house. Of course..." the detective continued to grumble. He didn't enjoy the fact that he made such a simple mistake.

He attempted to get the door to the passenger side open, but unfortunately it was locked. Jim snickered inside, earning him a piercing glare from Sherlock. The consulting detective mouthed, "Open it now." but Jim mockingly shook his head in response, gesturing him to sit at the back. Sherlock stood his ground for a good couple of minutes or so before giving in and entering the back followed by John, and Molly occupying the front seat.

A couple of hours in, they were running out of gas. Luckily for them, they have reached a checkpoint. Stopping by a gas station, the four sat in the car, waiting for the tank to fill up. The windows were rolled down and the radio was on. Everyone was quiet when suddenly the radio emitted a familiar and nostalgic tune emitted from the stereo. The guitar strummed as when Moriarty started to hum.

_I look at her and have to smile_

_As we go driving for a while_

_Her hair blowing in the open window of my car_

_And as we go the traffic lights_

_Watch them glimmer in her eyes_

"._..In the darkness of the evening."_ He mumbled, making Sherlock and John look at him awkwardly. Molly gave a warm smile as if this was all normal to her. She liked that song very much. Sherlock then remembered a vague memory from all those years ago of Molly telling him about how she and Jim would hum songs to each other while they worked in the lab.

As the ringing click of the gas chute closed and Molly gave a couple of bills to pay. They continued their journey to Sherlock's friend's house, opting to turn off the air conditioner to save up on gas.

_"And I've got all that I need, Right here in the passenger's seat."_ The consulting criminal sang in his Irish accent, glancing at Molly spontaneously.

On the second verse of the song, Molly started to join in. The two at the front sang as they would smile at each other from time to time. The song calmed Molly down. The situation she was in made her feel excited yet nervous all at the same time. Meanwhile, John happily hummed the tune as he pat his hands on his knees to keep up with the beat.

"_Hmmm-_ What?" John stopped abruptly upon noticing that Sherlock looked the slightest bit amused. The consulting detective glared at his blogger before looking at Molly who was happily singing along.

A couple more hours passed by with only Sherlock giving Jim directions heard. Molly and John were too tired to even attempt small talk.

Cutting the engine off, the car stopped in front of a newly built house that was a part of a large countryside estate.

Jim turned to Sherlock who was still wide awake despite the two other passengers being fast asleep. "Is this the place?" the consulting criminal asked.

Sherlock hummed in response, not taking his eyes off the view outside his window.

It was half an hour past midnight and the chilly atmosphere crept into the open windows of the car. Not much could be seen from where they were. The wide expanse of newly cropped grass was barely lit with a limited amount of lantern posts, but far ahead stood a darker side of the land which was undoubtedly a forest, barricaded with tall wooden fences.

The moon hid behind the clouds, giving the sky an illusion of a murky grey fog before the millions and millions of twinkling stars on the dark blue blanket overhead.

"Molly," Jim began to shake the woman that was sound asleep beside him awake, "Molly, we're here."

"Mhmm?" the pathologist blinked in her grogginess, and as soon as her vision was cleared, the first thing she saw was Jim looking down at her with a small smile on his face.

She smiled back at him lazily before sitting upright and smoothing down her sweater, "G'morning." She said to him before instinctively giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Jim froze at the contact and the smile on his face died down. Sherlock immediately snapped his attention to the front.

Molly, suddenly realizing what she did, clasped both of her hands onto her mouth.

"I'm sorry!" she squeaked. "I didn't know why I did that-" She began to flail her arms and ramble on and on with apologies.

"It was out of instinct and-"

"Molly-dear-"

"I didn't mean to-"

"No-" Jim said, grabbing a hold of both of her wrists to calm her down. He then slid his hands up to her palms, leaned forward until they were inches apart and gave her a warm smile that made her heart swell in her chest. "It's quite alright."

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably at the sight, and turned to John who was rubbing his eyes awake. "Nice of you to join the party." He barked at the groggy soldier.

"Why are you so-Why is he so cranky?" John turned to the two people on the front seats.

"No idea." Jim responded with a smug grin on his face, shrugged, and watched as the consulting detective grumbled.

Sherlock just had about enough of the frustration that was building up inside his chest for a reason he was oblivious to, so he took the opportunity to hop out of the car and swing its door shut with a loud thud.

Molly and John immediately scrambled after him while Jim took his time to remove his seatbelt, rolling his eyes in the process.

Sherlock stepped onto the front porch of the house and ignored the calls of his best friend and pathologist as he rang the door bell. Hearing no response after a couple of minutes, he finally ran out of patience and pressed the doorbell with his thumb until he heard footsteps approach them.

A familiar voice of a woman was heard from the other side of the door.

"For goodness sake, it's the dead of the night-" her grumbling was cut off as soon as she opened the door and saw the consulting detective standing in front of her.

"Oh, _fuck_." She let out a string of curses as soon as she saw John, Molly, and Jim walk into the light. Her brown wavy hair draped over her shoulders and she wore a light pink bathrobe over her silk night dress.

"May we come inside?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the look of exasperation on her face.

"NO." the woman replied through gritted teeth. She tried to slam the door on his face, but Sherlock blocked it with his foot.

"Sherlock, _just go away!_ You bring trouble everywhere you go." she droned, evidently having a history with unpleasant experiences with the detective.

"Please, let us in." Sherlock repeated in a more polite tone. "Janine?"

Janine sighed in defeat, opening the door wider for them to come inside. "You are going to pay for this, you bastard." she grumbled as he stepped into her country home.

"Technically, I did." Sherlock replied, referring to the entire estate which the woman had acquired with the money she earned from exploiting him on tabloids.

"Hello, John." Janine greeted, ignoring Sherlock's last remark. "Does Mary know you're with him?"

"Oh yes, she does." John said with the same amount of exasperation in his voice. "Honestly, I don't even know why I come along."

She chuckled in response, and John received a piercing glare from Sherlock.

"And you must be THE Miss Molly Hooper," Janine said, giving Molly a huge hug as she stepped onto the hardwood floor.

"Y-yes. Yes, I am." Molly replied, pulling away awkwardly. "I saw you at the wedding, but I don't believe we've been properly introduced."

"Oh, that's alright. I know quite enough." Janine giggled, "You know, Sherl wouldn't shut up about you."

This suddenly earned the attention of both the detective and criminal. Jim's eyebrows shot up in curiosity while Sherlock clenched his fists in irritation.

"H-he talked to you...about me?" Molly stuttered, not knowing how to react.

"Yeah, yeah." the Irish lady gave Sherlock a sly smile that annoyed the hell out of him.

"What did he, did he say?"

"Don't worry, sweetheart. He had nothing but praises for you-"

"Alright, that's enough." Sherlock interjected. He side-glanced John who was snickering next to him, and then gave Janine a threatening look. Jim remained quiet.

Seeing as no one was willing to break the silence, Molly put her foot down and spoke up, "Uhmm...I suppose we'll be needing a room."

Janine's gaze tore away from the detective's. She smiled at the pathologist warmly, "Of course. Anything for Sherlock's girlfriend."

"I'm not his-"

"Yes, that would be most helpful. Thank you, Janine." Sherlock didn't allow Molly to finish. He made his way to the receiving area of the house, effectively ending the conversation and leaving behind a stunned pathologist, his snickering best friend, and a silent consulting criminal who was more infuriated than he should be.

"But I must tell you, I only have one spare bedroom." Janine said, leading the four to the foyer. Everything was simple and homey, the floors were dark varnished wood, walls were beige in color and some frames hung in the wall. Two archways facing each other, one on the left and the other on the right.

The Irish brunette turned around to see the sociopaths glaring daggers at each other, John sniggering and Molly oblivious to the tension behind her. Janine snickered which didn't help to capture the pair's attention, but she started anyway, "Molly will be sleeping with me and you lot will share the other room. Sounds fair?"

"Fair enough." Sherlock hissed,fixing his attire.

"I'm assuming you haven't eaten yet. Wait in the dining room-"

"May I use your phone?" Jim interjected, flattening the flyaway on his hair.

"First thing on your left." Janine pointed to the hall next to her.

"_Thank you_." Jim replied, casually walking away.

"Wait isn't that..." the stunned woman trailed off as she watched the consulting criminal turn a corner.

"Welcome to our world." John nodded, placing a hand on Molly's shoulder.

"Is it...is he _safe_ to be around?" she nervously asked, fiddling with the end of the ribbon of her robe.

"Well," John shrugged and awkwardly observed the ceiling, "He hasn't hurt anyone so far."

Janine's mouth formed an 'Oh' as she slowly began to digest what was happening around her.

Getting rather impatient, Sherlock swung himself back and forth before interjecting, "I believe dinner-"

"Yes, yes. I know..." Janine pulled herself together and rolled her eyes as they went to the dining room. This was just the kind of 'trouble' she wanted to avoid getting into with Sherlock around.

"Alright, why don't you boys stay there and Molly can help me prepare dinner?" Back to her cheery self, Janine flung an arm around Molly who nervously smiled at her closeness. "We have _a lot_ to talk about." Janine added, glancing at Sherlock who was the least bit happy.

"Molly, you stay here. I'll go with her." Sherlock offered, ignoring John who was not bothering to hide his smile of amusement from him.

"No, no. It's quite alright, I don't mind." Molly beamed.

"You see? She doesn't mind." Janine held back a laugh at the speechless consulting detective. Janine led her into the kitchen, looking over her shoulder to find Sherlock frowning.

"Do you think we're safe here?" John asked with both hands on his chin, they were now sitting in a long table filled with 8 chairs, 3 on both sides and 2 at both ends. Her family would visit her from time to time, so she acquired a practical table for use.

"I ripped out the bug before we can get here, but I am sure that person would find means to find us as fast as you can say murder." Sherlock crossed his legs, his fingertips placed on each other.

"Mmm, _greeeaaat._" The tone of sarcasm from John's voice bounced in the four corners of the room.

"What does that psycho want-"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out, John. That person must have known Molly through me, and I am for certain they want Molly to play because they are _obsessed_ with her. That's the only reason I could think of as of now." Sherlock said in one breath, closing his eyes to concentrate.

"Obsessed?" John asked with curiosity.

"Think, John. Think! That person wants Moriarty and I to team up and so we did. The angle of the camera was purposely placed on her when I found it. That person is delusional in the most _sickening_ manner, and that's saying something considering we have dealt with Magnussen." Sherlock spat out with a disgusted look.

"More delusional than me?" Jim said, walking in with a smirk on his face, taking a seat next to Sherlock who sat on the end of the table while John on his right. "I'm not so sure about that."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at Moriarty before shaking his head and turning towards the kitchen where he could smell the savory aroma wafting from the kitchen.

"We're dealing with an experienced person who knows how to play the Game well." Jim crossed his legs, leaning back on to the chair. "One of the best ways to guarantee your chances of winning is to hide your identity for as long as you can, and as far as I'm concerned, this person is good as good gets with anonymity."

"_You_ two know the Game _well_. _You_ cocks should solve _this_." John pointed at the two who barely flinched at his insult.

"Dr. Watson, it's because we know the game well that we have to play it like _this_." Jim reprimanded the man across the table. "Honestly, do you actually believe we like following orders? No."

"I'm afraid he's right, John. We have to take things slowly, one step at a time if we want to make it out of this alive." Sherlock pressed his fingertips together and leaned back on to the wooden chair. "As sly as the fox..." Sherlock mumbled.

Meanwhile in the kitchen, the two ladies were having their own discussion which seemed to revolve around the two unsuspecting men outside.

"It was the most embarrassing thing ever!" Molly exclaimed, mashing the boiled potatoes. Telling the cringe worthy situation she was in 3 Christmases ago.

"What a prat! You should've given him the cold shoulder. I would if I were you." Janine chuckled stirring the pan filled with caramelized meat.

"Yes, well...I only have myself to blame." Molly said in an unconvincing laugh.

"Nonsense! I will tell that Sherlock off."

"No, no! It was a long time ago and I sort of...got my revenge if you would call it."

"Revenge?" Janine said in an impressed manner. "Oh my, this is interesting. Do tell."

"I...slapped him. Three times" Molly tried to stop herself from smiling at the amusement slowly growing on Janine's face. "But that's a long story! And it was an awful situation as well." Molly quickly added, attempting to simmer down Janine's excitement.

"I'm not gonna ask." the homeowner smiled, shifting to Molly's side to taste the mashed potato, "_Mmm!_ Molly Hooper that's one good mash!"

"R-really? Thank you." Molly replied.

The boys-I mean, men didn't wait too long. Molly and Janine walked out of the kitchen with two big bowls on hand. Stirred meat and mashed potatoes.

"John, can you be a dear and get the utensils in the kitchen?" Janine asked, placing the dinner on the table.

"Of course, where is it?"

"Just on your left."

Molly sat beside Jim to Sherlock's dismay. Janine on the other end as she watched a hint of jealousy wash over Sherlock's face.

When dinner was over, Sherlock decided that it would be best to turn in for the night before they continued the rest of their meeting. This psychopath had proven themselves quite the adversary, driving both sociopathic geniuses to the edge. They would need all their strength to plan a proper counter action. To his surprise, Jim nodded in agreement with him.

After they had changed into more comfortable clothes that Janine provided for them, they all went upstairs to their assigned rooms.

The bedrooms on the far left end of the second floor were right next to each other. The guest room was where John, Sherlock, and Jim would be residing for the night, and Molly would share Janine's room.

"Hold on." Moriarty called after John before he could enter the guest room. The Irish man was carrying a tray that had a pitcher of water with slices of lemon, and three glasses. "Could you open the door for me, please?" he said in a remarkably polite manner.

"What are those for?" John asked, his suspicion rising by the second.

"I get dehydrated real quick at night." Jim chuckled, "So would you please let me in?"

John eyed him cautiously from head to toe before sighing in defeat and holding the door open for Jim.

"Bless you, Dr Watson." Jim thanked him, placing the tray on the nightstand by the bed on the right. John turned away, incidentally missing Jim snickering under his breath.

Conveniently, the guest room had four beds fit for one person each. There were two glass double doors which separated them from the large balcony. Heavy velvet curtains were tied to the side, letting the moonlight in.

"Are you coming in, mate?" John turned around to see Sherlock who was still standing by the door frame.

"Yes, in a minute." He said, closing their door and walking toward the one next to theirs.

The detective took a deep breath, tousled his hair, and knocked with a rhythmic pattern.

Much to his dismay, Janine was the one to answer the door. "What do you want?" She chuckled, opening the door just enough for her to pop her head out, "Need someone to fluff your pillow? Tuck you into bed?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the brunette's never-ending agenda of torturing him. "I would like to speak with Miss Hooper."

"Oh, so she can fluff your pillow and tuck you into bed?"

"Janine-"

"Alright, alright." She chuckled once more, ignoring the look of murder that crossed Sherlock's eyes. "I'm just messing with you."

She turned around and opened the door wider, revealing Molly who was sitting on the end of Janine's head. She had her back turned to them as she brushed her wavy hair. She was wearing a purple silk night dress similar to Janine's, and a pair of lounge sandals.

Sherlock could feel a sudden heat creeping up his face when his train of thoughts were derailed by the woman next to him.

"You see something you like, detective?" Janine whispered, nudging him in the ribs.

"Shut up." Sherlock retorted, receiving an obnoxious snort in response. "Purple...Purple! Why purple? It doesn't even suit her."

"Jim thinks it does."

"Was I talking out loud?"

"Yes. Yes, you were."

"Look," Sherlock rubbed his face with both of his palms in attempt to calm his nerves, "Clearly, we've had quite a long day and my mind isn't functioning properly-"

"Clearly-"

"BUT," Sherlock did not allow her to interrupt, "I haven't had a decent nap in 24 hours because we've been particularly busy running away from an anonymous psychopath, who by the way, managed to manipulate and outwit the Napoleon of Crime, and the world's only consulting detective."

"_Boy_," Janine crossed her arms, feigning concern, "I bet you're really annoyed."

"You _bet_ I am." Sherlock replied curtly, "So if you could please make my life a little easier, I would absolutely appreciate it." He looked at her with pleading eyes which she downright ignored.

"But teasing you is so much fun!"

Sherlock tugged at his hair in frustration, "Oh, you are a godless woman, sent to Earth to make my life miserable-"

"Okay! Okay," Janine had to hold onto the door frame to prevent her from bending over out of laughter, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"I'll cut it out." the brunette finally said.

_"Thank you."_ over-pronounced the detective.

"But I get to tease you all day tomorrow." Janine jabbed his chest with her manicured finger, "And there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"I could kill you-"

"Sherlock!"

"Yes, alright." the detective sighed in defeat, propping his hands on his waist.

"Good boy." Janine quipped once more and turned around before Sherlock could answer back. "Molls!"

"Yes?" Molly turned and saw the two standing by the door.

"Sherl wants to have a word with you."

"Oh. Alright, then." Molly stood up from her position on the bed and followed Sherlock out of the room. She closed the door behind her and stepped into the hall a couple of feet away from the bedroom and crossed her arms to keep her warm.

"What is it?" She looked up at him with an expectant gaze.

"I just wanted..." Cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at her in the purple nightie, "to ask if you're alright."

"Sherlock, we've had this conversation before-"

"I know." He cut her off, catching himself off guard and looking directly into her eyes. "And I want you to know that I will do anything in my power to keep you safe."

"I-"

"Anything in my power." Sherlock repeated, stepping into her personal space. "I swear on my life, I will end this. F-for you. So that you can go back to living a normal life."

In an unexpected response, Molly chuckled. She reached up to stroke his cheek affectionately and whispered, "My life was never normal, Sherlock. Can you imagine how boring it would be if it were?"

With that, he smiled at her with admiration in his eyes.

"Will that be all?" Molly asked, clawing through his thoughts.

"Uhm, yes."

"Excellent." She pat his cheek a couple of times with enough force to make him scrunch his eyes. "Because I want to sleep."

He watched her walk back towards Janine's bedroom.

"Good night, Molly." He called out before she opened the door.

"Good night, Sherlock."

Sherlock entered the guest room to find Jim sitting at the edge of the bed he claimed. "Where have you been?" he said in an obviously irritated tone.

"I've been out in the hall-"

"Oh, shut up. I don't want to hear it." the Irish man said, standing up and taking two glasses from the tray and tossing one at Sherlock, who had luckily caught it just before it hit the ground.

"What are you waiting for?!" Jim hissed at him once more as he positioned himself on the wall they were sharing with the girls' room. "If you think these ladies are going to sleep, well then you are wrong, Mister. Because women don't do that. It's all part of human behavior. A concept of which I know you are oblivious to."

"You have no sense of privacy." Sherlock reprimanded but only received an eye roll in response.

"I suppose you _don't_ want to hear if they're talking about you?" Jim crooned. Apparently what he said had some effect on Sherlock because before he knew it, the detective was right next to him, planting the open end of his glass against the wall, and pressing his ear on the closed end. A triumphant smile formed on Moriarty's face.

That very moment, John walked in from the balcony. He had stepped out to give Mary a phone call. He was about to settle down on his own bed when he saw the two boys- I mean, men in their current positions.

"What are you doing?" he barked, though he knew very well what they were doing.

"Listening. Shhh..." Jim said in a mocking tone.

"I thought those glasses were for-"

"Oh, please, Dr Watson. Did you actually believe that dehydration bit? Dear God. Sherlock, why do you hang out with this man?"

"Believe it or not, he's good company." Sherlock replied in monotone.

"Provides entertainment with his lack of intellect, I assume." Jim giggled, and much to John's chagrin, so did Sherlock.

"Have you lost your manners?" John said in a threatening tone.

Jim lifted his head to turn to the frustrated soldier and chuckled, "I'm a criminal. How much manners do you think I have?"

"John, do be quiet." Sherlock commanded dryly without removing his ear from the end of the glass.

"Look at you." John said, turning his attention to the detective, "Working and now- now,_ laughing_ with the enemy."

"How tragic." Sherlock said without the slightest bit of emotion.

His remark made Jim snicker once more, "Good one, Sherlock."

John rolled his eyes at the boys-Sorry, men-in front of him and collapsed onto the mattress of his bed. He still kept the gun under his pillow and prayed that he won't have to use it just yet. "Good night, children."

"Good night, John."

"Good night, Dr Watson."


	7. Ep5: The Spider and The Flies

**AN:**

Hey guys! Sooo I'm actually at summer camp right now, which is why I've been inactive for the past few days. Hope everyone is doing well :) Same as always, thank you to everyone who read and reviewed this story! Your kind words and support continues to motivate us up to this very day. _Bless you. Bless all of you._ By the way, in a completely unrelated note, have you read the drabbles Gloria has been posting on her blog? Damn it, her Romanogers fic, The Wedding, SLAYED ME. Damn. I'm not over it. The feeeels...If you have time, you should totes check them out. Especially that one wretched drabble *weeps* Well uhm, I guess that's all for now. Byeee! -_Celina the Orca_

HELLO THERE! HELLO EVERYONE! I AM LONELY BECAUSE WHALE ISN'T HERE, BUT NO WORRIES, SHE'LL COME BACK SOON. ANYWAY, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL OF YOU, YOU ARE ALL WONDERFUL HUMAN BEINGS, MONSTERS, ANIMALS OR WHATEVER KIND YOU ARE! BECAUSE YOU ARE ALL AWESOME :) IT REALLY DOES WARMS OUR HEART WHEN YOU SAY SUCH KIND THINGS *rolls around* SO EVERYONE, ENJOY THIS NEW EPISODE OF STRINGS AND PLEASE DON'T HESITATE TO TALK TO US ! WE LOVE YOU :) *throws pizza at everybody*

_-Gloria the Sheep_

* * *

**The Spider and the Flies**

"So what brings you to country side?" Janine crossed her legs in an indian style manner, looking at the pathologist just across her big bed.

"Life or death. A mad man is trying to kill us." Molly said in a care free tone, shrugging as she added, "You know, the usual."

"Sherl wouldn't put you in too much danger. He cares about you excessively." Janine chuckled, wiggling her eyebrows. She saw the slight blush Molly had on her cheeks and how she awkwardly played around with the end of her nightie.

"Even though he doesn't want to admit it, he actually cares about his friends." Molly gave a silly smile.

"Or, he just _reaaallly_ likes you." Janine playfully nudged the pathologist, the Irish born found Molly quite adorable and instantly wanted to befriend her.

"That's unlikely." Molly chuckled, "But we're good friends now."

Janine took a minute to observe Molly's actions, even looking at her nimbly fingers that were twirling around the night gown. Janine knew instantly that Molly would doubt everything when it came to Sherlock's affections, and why wouldn't she? Instead of pitying Molly, she decided to help her with her self-esteem. Molly deserves to be more confident about and other things, and she doesn't want to see her new found friend down at all.

"What about that criminal fellow? Jim?" She asked the pathologists who snapped her head up to meet Janine's gaze.

"Oh, Jim? I don't know to be completely honest."

"Huh? Why?"

"I dated him."

Janine's eyes suddenly looked as if they were about to pop right out of their sockets. Molly ducked her head to hide her look of embarrassment, "We sort of broke up because Sherlock deduced that he was gay. But then I found out he was only using me to get to Sherlock."

"Well, now's different, isn't it?" Janine asked cautiously, shaking her head to relieve herself from the shock.

"I guess so...I mean, I'm weirdly comfortable around him and he's awfully nice once you get to know him, but...I still don't know where he's getting at. Best to care for those who needed the most, I say." Molly smiled at the end of her statement, fondly twirling her hair this time.

Janine smiled back and said, "He sounds like a changed man."

"He's definitely changed, but he's still Moriarty nonetheless."

"But that didn't stop you from showing him kindness and...love."

"I... Uhm... Yeah..." The brown locked pathologist tucked her hair in place, "I guess you're right."

The girls continued to talk for quite some time, unbeknownst to them that a couple of mischievous consultants were eavesdropping from the very beginning.

"Are they serious about your hair?" Jim scoffed, finally taking his ear off the end of the glass. Sherlock did the same.

"Well, it is naturally curled beautifully." Sherlock smirked, twisting a lock between his fingers. "Although I definitely disagree with Janine's comment about the physical aesthetic of you and Molly as a couple."

"Just face it, Sherlock. You're jealous."

"Jealous? I can assure you, I am not. I simply don't see the optimality of it."

"The more you choose to brush it off, the more you turn into an insane madman. I mean, look at me! _I'm insane_, but not stupid. I am no fool, embracing this _annoying_ thing and believe me, it is. It'll help you cease another ringing problem in your head." Jim replied, lying down on his back.

"I am not-"

"In denial, I see. Better shut your face before I do it for you. Sleep and maybe you'll agree." Jim yawned before settling on his own bed and closing his eyes.

Sherlock pondered all through the night. He tried taking a nap for half an hour, but he couldn't close his eyes for some rest. He kept on tossing and turning, thoughts flooding, washing over him, making him restless. Deciding it was not important as the situation they're in right now, Sherlock scooted off his bed and began to pace himself back and forth. Recalling the recent affair he heard, he scrunched up his eyebrows in frustration and tried to rid himself of the thought, but nothing could stop it replaying in his head.

"How's the romp?" Janine's voice echoed through the walls and to the glass the two consultants held beside their ears.

"Huh?" Molly nervously said.

"Y'know, sex!" Janine said in a blunt manner.

"_With who?_" Molly exclaimed, feeling a bit scandalized. Her face was glowing red all over.

And with that response Janine realized something unbelievable. Molly Hooper did more than just go to a couple of dates with the consulting criminal.

"Which ever you prefer, my dear!" She squealed in delight with her Irish accent.

"What- I... No, it's a misunderstanding." Molly muttered, trying to avoid looking at Janine at all costs.

"Come on, Molly! Tell me. Did you...?" Janine nudged an elbow playfully.

Through the other room the two consultants were in silence. Jim was smiling ear to ear, while Sherlock was undoubtedly frowning. The squeals were unpleasant to the ears, he reasoned with himself.

"Do you want me to tell you?" Jim raised his brows mockingly, knowing the subject of coitus between him and Molly would stir the consulting detective's mind palace into a blaze. He snickered at the sight of Sherlock scrunching his face.

"I don't feel the need to stick my nose into her own private affairs. Her privacy is important." Sherlock replied in an unconvincing manner.

"You? Privacy? Since when did you care?" Moriarty gave a hearty scoff. "Dear boy, if you cared about her privacy, you wouldn't be sitting here next to me, pressing your ear against a glass."

"Are you boys still at it?" John called out groggily from his bed, not opening his eyes. "Honestly, you have to stop. It's been, what? More than an hour already-"

"_Shhhh!_" The consulting criminal hissed at the doctor irritably. They missed the part where the girls were talking about copulation. Now the other side was filled with giggles and breathy laughter.

Feeling quite disappointed, Jim gave John's sleeping profile a sneer and then a sharp glare at the detective who was not bothering to hide his smile of amusement.

"Yes, he's quite funny!" Molly said in her own sweet voice. Sherlock and Jim gave a smug grin at the same time, both speculating that Molly was talking about each one of them.

"_Obviously_, she was talking about me." Sherlock commented in his deep voice.

"You? Funny? When I turn over my horns for wings, I can believe you." Jim retorted...

The curly-haired consulting detective stopped pacing and caught himself back to reality. He glanced at the two men who were now sound asleep in their own individual beds and shook his head. How could they be so relaxed when he, so stressed?

All they can do is wait, wait till the person pulling the strings come out of their den. Sherlock lifted his head to the double glass doors and saw the navy blue sky. The sun would rise soon. He took this as a cue for him to leave the room and stay in the dining area.

He remained seated on one of the long table's chairs and assumed his prayer position. It was the best he could do to make himself feel at ease. He shut his eyes. A couple of hours passed by and the sky was already transitioning from a dark blue blanket to a mixture of different red and orange hues when a cheery woman's voice clawed through his clouded mind.

"Look at you, so early in the morning." Janine greeted accompanied by a yawn, walking down with Molly.

Sherlock hummed dryly in response, making the Irish woman roll her eyes. "Alright then, I'll go make breakfast." Janine offered, Molly was about to open her mouth to insist in helping with the cooking, but Janine propped her down beside Sherlock as she gave a sly smile to the consulting detective.

"Had uh... Uhm... Good night's rest?" Sherlock started to converse. He cleared his throat since it was a bit scratchy from disuse.

"Mmm yes, I suppose so, but I'm guessing you didn't?" Molly looked a bit worried, but she constantly reminds herself that, that's what Sherlock does.

"Nothing new. I need you to keep close to the group anyway, you understand? Preferably, to a man graced with great intellect and cunningness. Since the only person in our group who meets all the qualities is me, I shall take the reins." Sherlock advised, looking as much as a professional as he is. Molly looked at him reluctantly, although she trusts him with all her life she doesn't want to weigh him down; especially when the one pulling the strings isn't Moriarty anymore, giving him vast curiosity. She knew this excited him as much as he tries to look not to be, yet she saw something sincere in him.

"But Sherlock, I don't-"

"I don't mind at all, Molly Hooper. You are a special person and I want to keep you safe." Sherlock's eyes twinkled, looking at her with a fervent gleam.

Molly appreciated it and gave a smile, "You never fail to shock me, Sherlock Holmes."

"Well, let's hope its vicinity is of the good."

"I doubt it is." Jim came in, followed by John who was still rubbing his eyes awake. The consulting criminal obliged himself to sit next to Molly and John on Sherlock's side, earning a searing glare from the annoyed detective.

"G'morning." He followed in his Irish accent, propping his elbows on to the table.

"Good Morning." Molly replied. Sherlock had a bitter expression on at her reply, which Jim enjoyed watching.

"Any thoughts about what I said, Sherlock?" Moriarty asked.

The consulting detective was silent, his face stoic, leaving John and Molly's curiosity unanswered.

"Said? Said about what?" John asked, breaking the deafening silence.

"About the problem, of course." Jim perked his eyebrows up, shifting the subject meaning to a more obvious one.

"I don't understand why can't we just tell Mycroft about the new threat. It'll be easier." John suggested, although he knows Sherlock doesn't want Mycroft to meddle in his affairs, if that perpetrator was as powerful, then contacting Sherlock's big brother is a good move.

"Because that person _is_ a threat, John. We are absolutely not involving Mycroft." Sherlock replied in his normal tone of voice, when suddenly the ring of Molly's phone caught their attention. The three men anticipated something, of course they did. That's what the person wants them to do.

Sherlock slipped his hand in his pocket and grasped the phone. He gave a sigh before reading the text, "When you look back, everything makes sense. I long to make you mine, my pathologist."

It sent shivers down everyone's spine, except for Jim who was internally fuming. He was already fiddling with the bread knife, which Sherlock noticed. The consulting detective ran through Molly's contacts, not a single one was suspicious.

"Molly, do you know anybody who seemed enamored with Moriarty and Sherlock?" John calmly asked, hoping Molly could give a helpful reply.

"I'm sorry. None at all. I never interacted with anyone like that." Molly shook her head, completely calm. Then another ring followed, "I can never forget you."

That made Molly cross her arms, covering her shoulders to keep warm. She was slightly disturbed before, but now she was uncomfortable.

"It's possible that he never talked to Molly before." Jim said in a low tone.

"He?" John replied.

"He. Of course, it's just a hunch, but when you piece them all together. It's more likely that we're dealing with a male. _Clearly_ doesn't know what to do with his brooding emotions and he only knew Molly because he had _seen_ her." The consulting criminal leaned closer to the pathologist to comfort her which she appreciated whole heartedly.

"I'm afraid Jim's right." Sherlock agreed tossing the phone on to the table and immediately bringing his fingertips together.

"I don't know how this happened, but I am so sorry. This is my doing." Molly interjected, looking down on her lap. She felt guilt, because of her, the ones important to her are in grave danger.

"Never your fault, Mollywogs. Though, I must excuse myself in advance. When we find that man I won't be able to hold myself back." Jim hissed, his familiar bloodlust eyes were present.

"I thought you're too luxurious to get your hands dirty?" Sherlock glanced at the Irish man.

"Sometimes it's more satisfying when you get the job done yourself." Jim raised a brow and smirked. "Besides, my hands were and always will be dirty no matter how much you wash it with soap."

"You may have to excuse me as well, Molly. Jim and I will be arguing who will kill who." Sherlock said.

Molly stayed quiet, giving a half smile to show that she comprehends even just a bit. The phone had stopped receiving messages and it took a while for the normal atmosphere to surround them again. John stepped outside for a little while to call Mary, and when he returned, breakfast was already laden on the table.

A while later, they were all feasting on the pancakes with honey and sausages that Janine had prepared for all of them. Not much talk happened around the table since they were all too occupied with their food and the never ending theories that kept flooding their minds. John, Molly, and even Janine attempted to deduce on their own.

Sherlock tried to eat at least a nibble. It wasn't for his sake at all, surprisingly. It was for the pathologist's. He thought it was best to show her a more humane side, but Molly gave him a skeptic look. The pathologist knew that he never eats in such occasions, she was surely worried and Sherlock immediately noticed her gaze. Stopping his act for it no longer holds reason.

For the first time in their entire trip, Sherlock and Jim were too busy to throw shade at one another. This particular detail amused John to no end.

Their silence was interrupted by someone ringing the doorbell.

"Excuse me." Janine was quick to stand as if she had expected the visitor.

This immediately gained Sherlock's attention. He began to deduce the person standing behind the door just for the hell of it.

_Two successive rings, light pressure; Not a threat. Frequents the estate, but not often enough to simply walk in the door - Boyfriend? No. He would have had a key. Suitor? Unlikely to come this early in the morning. Gardener? Not possible; the grass is newly cropped. Newspaper delivery man; No. Paper routes are limited, and if it was, he would have thrown the paper at the doorstep and leave. UNLESS, they're delivering something else. Aha! There is no marketplace for a couple of miles from here, and yet Janine's pantry is full of fresh produce. Logically, the man behind the door is a-_

"Farmer."

"Farmer."

Jim and Sherlock spoke at the same time. The two of them glanced at one another for a split second. Jim, smirking, and Sherlock clenching his jaw.

That very moment, Janine came back into the dining room carrying a weaved basket full of assorted vegetables and fruits. Behind her came in a man who as far as Sherlock can deduce, a little older than Gavin- Greg, sorry -Lestrade.

"Oh, my, that is so unfortunate-" Janine cut herself mid-sentence from her apparent conversation with the farmer and faced her intrigued guests to introduce him, "Everyone, this is Mr Niles. He's a farmer from the marketplace, and he delivers goods to me twice a week."

A chorus of Good mornings and Hellos were said from the people occupying the table. Sherlock, in his usual dry and uninterested tone, and Jim in his feigned friendly facade.

After that, Janine and Mr Niles went to the kitchen to put away the fresh products and continued with their conversation that could faintly be heard from the dining area.

"As I was saying, it was really odd that a robber targeted their cottage." Mr Niles said in a empathizing tone.

At the word 'robber', both Jim and Sherlock's head snapped towards the kitchen and they continued to listen. Molly and John did the same.

"What did they take?" Janine asked with a gasp.

"That's also another weird thing! They didn't take anything valuable." the farmer exclaimed. "The robber, whoever they were, took a couple of books with him."

"Books?" Janine asked, "Well, that is indeed odd."

"Books..." Everyone on the table mumbled under their breath all at the same time.

"I spoke to them. Fortunately, no one was hurt. Lovely couple. Friends and clients of mine for a while now, eh." Farmer Niles breathed out, leaning against the counter and clutching the weaved basket, "They said the books that were taken were journals from their late son."

Upon hearing this information, Jim jumped up from his seat. His eyes were burning with rage, and his pulse rising by the second. John had to hold him down to the chair.

It took a while for Molly to arrive at the same conclusion, but once she did, she clasped her hands on her mouth to stop a scream from escaping her.

Sherlock was surprisingly calm, though he assumed his prayer position. "Everyone, act normal." he murmured without saying anything further.

The three were wise enough to not question him and oblige, however it proved itself difficult for Jim because his fingers kept twitching every now and then. The only thing that calmed his nerves was when Molly hooked her arm around his and rubbed his bicep in soothing motions. She also instinctively took away the knives and other sharp objects within the consulting criminal's reach.

They all bid goodbye to the farmer as Janine led him out of the door, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere around the table. As soon as she sat back down on the table, she immediately sensed that something was wrong. "What happened?" she asked.

"He's sending us a message." Sherlock said. And as if on cue, Molly's phone beeped in a new message. He hastily took it and read it aloud for everyone to hear:

_You like puzzles, don't you? Figure this one out._

"Puzzle?" John said, "What is he talking about? What puzzle?"

"He knows where we are." Jim said, stretching his arms and flexing his neck muscles.

"Hold on there for a minute," Janine demanded, "Who knows where we are? That, that psychopath?"

"Calm down, Janine." Sherlock commanded, "He won't do anything unless we solve the puzzle."

"We don't even know what the puzzle is!" John said, banging his fist on the table.

"We have to figure it out. This is somehow related to one another." Jim said, referring to the incidents they have encountered so far.

Another messaged arrived:

_You have 10 minutes._

"Ten minutes or what?" Molly asked with a bit of worry in her voice.

Jim and Sherlock ignored her question and began to think to themselves, wracking every part of their Mind Palaces in search for a connection of the recent circumstances to the psychopath.

John, Molly, and Janine decided that it would be best if they remained silent as the two geniuses did their work.

5 minutes had gone by and the silence seemed to make the room heavier for everyone. Sherlock and Jim were still trying to figure out what the person on the phone wanted.

_Connections. Connections. There must be connections._ Jim was beginning to feel frustrated. He banged both of his fists on the table involuntarily, startling everyone besides Sherlock. He was tearing down the walls of his Mind Palace, causing havoc everywhere he set foot, but there was nothing. Nothing was coming to mind...

"You can do it." The small shaking voice of Molly Hooper whispered to both of the men. This seemed to have done something because Jim had finally pulled himself together.

Data began to flood into his head and he tried desperately to organize them. _Cafe, Holmes Residence, Brook Residence, Cafe, Holmes Residence, Brook Residence, Cafe, Holmes Residence, Brook Residence..._ Somehow those three were what his mind considered important.

_Cafe: a car crashed into the window, Holmes Residence: a homemade explosive, Brook Residence: robbery-_

"Oh." Jim's eyes shot open and widened in his epiphany. "OH. I GET IT."

Sherlock turned to him and glanced at the clock. 8 minutes had passed.

"What is it?"

"Jim, what is it?" John asked frantically, concerned about the time limit given to them.

Jim gulped and looked around the table at the faces looking at him before breathing out in a genuinely anxious tone, "My first crimes."

As soon as the words escaped his mouth, the phone beeped a new message:

_Good. Very good, Jimmy._

"Your...first crimes?" Molly asked in utter bewilderment.

Jim faced her, looking like his old, stuttering and afraid self. He began his story. "I was a teenager...bullied and ridiculed just because I was smarter than everybody else, and then there was the people who tried to take away our land...

"I haven't met Sherlock yet. I thought I was the only one in this world with this kind of mind power. I sought revenge after those who made fun of me.

"Mark Abbot. I tinkered his car's controls so it drove into the river...

"Danny Friedrich. I planted homemade explosives in his dormitory...

"And Glen Harvey. I robbed his entire bank account when he dropped his access card."

"What did you do next?" Sherlock asked him calmly, turning his full attention to Jim.

Jim looked around him and saw Molly listening intently. For the first time in his life, he was ashamed for admitting his crimes.

Nevertheless, he breathed out, "Carl Powers."

Sherlock immediately drew himself back, and stood up from his seat.

"What's going on?" John asked his suddenly hyped friend, "Sherlock."

"He's planning to kill somebody." Jim said plainly, causing a commotion to erupt around them.

Sherlock instinctively glanced at Molly who looked afraid for the first time their entire case. "Not if we can help it." the detective said.

"We have to move. Now." Sherlock demanded.

"John-"

"Done." John cut him off, taking out his gun from inside his jacket. "I'll take Janine, and you take Molls. It would be better if we split up for now."

"Hold on a minute! I'm in this now?" Janine asked in disbelief.

"If you want to live? Yes." John replied to her without blinking.

Molly was just about to grab Sherlock's outstretched hand, but then she turned around to see Jim, "What about him?"

"He has to go alone." Sherlock said.

Jim looked deep into her eyes and managed to make her worry fade a little. He brushed a stray hair away from her forehead before pressing a soft kiss on it.

Everyone watched in awe at Moriarty showing genuine concern. The detective, however, felt an inexplicable pang in his chest.

"I'm afraid they're right this time, Molly. This psychopath is more connected to me than anyone here. I can't risk having you in my company." he then shifted his attention to Sherlock and gave him a threatening gaze. "Take care of her." he said in a commanding tone.

Sherlock nodded in understanding. "You'll need something to arm yourself." he said.

"Wait!" Janine squeaked, running to one of her drawers and retrieving two handguns. "You can use these. Living in the countryside presents its dangers, as you can tell."

"I told you she was paranoid." Sherlock murmured, receiving an eye roll from John.

Jim examined the loaded gun that was handed to him, and it would be a lie to say that he wasn't tempted to shoot at the people around him, but for the sake of the safety of his pathologist, he restrained himself. John kept a keen eye on him until Molly, Sherlock, and Janine were out of the house.

The four of them made their way to Moriarty's car with Sherlock on the driver's seat. Molly glanced over the window to look at Jim once more. He was looking back at her with the same intensity, not exactly sure when would be the next time he'd see her.

"Be careful!" Molly yelled, her voice cracking, before turning away to duck her head. Jim nodded and moved back inside the house. He shut the door and watched them drive away. Once the car was out of clear sight, there was complete silence.

1..2...3...4...5 minutes of complete silence.

Suddenly, the sound of doors creaking open from the backside of the house made him lift his head. Jim put the gun in front of him and stood up from his seat. He slowly smirked to himself.

"There's no need for violence. I'm coming along with you." He quipped, turning around to find armed bulky men. Moriarty led the way out the back, as the two followed. Locking him inside an SUV. He was seated comfortably behind the passenger's seat.

Half an hour had passed as four occupants left the house. They were driving on the road back from where they came from.

"Where are we going?" Janine asked Sherlock who's driving with great speed. The road was wide and only a few cars passed by and used it in the morning.

"Back to London." Sherlock replied, eyes glued on the road. "John?"

"Yes?" the doctor sat up.

"You can call Gavin now."

Janine and Molly stayed at the back, while John on the passenger's seat. Sherlock would check on Molly ever so often, glancing at the rear view mirror. The former army doctor checked his mobile phone if he had any battery power left. Thankfully, he did. Giving a sigh of relief, John phoned Lestrade.

"Hello, Greg? Yes. Sherlock and I, along with some company will arrive at 221B this evening, send in maximum security in the whole block. I'm afraid I cannot explain the situation we are in, but all I can say is someone's in danger." John licked his dried lips, batting his lashes a couple of time to rehydrate his eyes. He looked at the rearview mirror and caught Sherlock give him an approving nod.

"Wait, wait, wait. Alright. Security. I get that, but exactly who's in danger?" Greg's voice echoed.

"That's about it. We don't know." John replied, something about those words he let out sent chills down his spine. He hung up, looking at Sherlock who had a serious face on.

Meanwhile, in the crisp black SUV where the consulting criminal was held at the back; he stayed quiet, deciding to wait till he arrived at the designated destination to meet the psycho was more logical than asking the buffoons at the front.

"Sherlock, we're almost out of gas." John pointed out, looking at the meter.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that. There's a gas station fifteen minutes ahead." Sherlock replied, it was almost sun down. They were halfway through the journey back, Molly and Janine fell asleep. The two slept soundly, Molly's head on the Irish brunette's shoulder while hers on the pathologist's.

"Do you think we can stop this man?" John asked in a serious manner, exhaling a worrisome breathe.

"I don't know. Maybe, maybe not." The consulting detective replied, his response disheartened John a little bit.

"But I will make sure that the probability of stopping him is greater." Sherlock added, his eyes gleamed with certainty as he pulled over to fill the gas tank.

The consulting detective and the newly awoken pathologist stood on the side of the car. They were the only ones in the gas station. Waiting for the tank to fill up, they started to converse like they always did.

"Will he be alright?" Molly asked in a worried tone. Her arms were crossed and her body was hunched slightly.

"I cannot assure you of his safety, but I know Moriarty. He will glide smoothly in his course." Sherlock replied honestly, taking an inch closer to the side to lessen the gap between them.

"You're right. Although, I'm also worried about you." She puffed a breath, looking at the high functioning sociopath with sincere eyes.

"Me? Molly Hooper, I assume you know me very well. Danger is my neighbor, if not my middle name." Sherlock looked at the pathologist, he kept himself from getting sucked in by her stare. He was genuinely surprised, although he knew Molly was worried in a sense, he didn't know she was that worried.

"Yes, you. You're a close friend. An important person to me." She smiled at him and he smiled back, when suddenly a swish of a blade caught Molly's attention and quickly pulled Sherlock out of the way, resulting the knife to pierce through her left thigh.

The attacker dressed in a grey hoodie ran cursing to the air, "She got in the way!"

"Molly!" Sherlock exclaimed, coming to her aid. John and Janine rushed to them, hearing Sherlock's loud voice.

John came running after the attacker who turned behind the gas station. He was about to fire a shot at the hooded figure when he saw it climb over the concrete wall. John was about to follow suit when Sherlock's booming voice caught his attention, "John, come over here!"

"I'm fine, Sherlock. It can be treated." Molly said with a staggering breath, she tried to remain as composed and strong as she could even though the excruciating pain seemed to increase. Sherlock didn't bother to follow the attacker. He knew perfectly well that it was an order from the Game Master himself.

"The blade is five inches tall, stabbed all the way through not too long ago, or maybe about three inches. It was an attack to injure me, to stab my chest, but you pulled me out of the way, resulting his actions to come to its end earlier than expected and ended up stabbing your thigh." Sherlock mumbled nervously as he looked at Molly and clutched her as if his life depended on it.

"Sherlock, we need to get her to a hospital before she runs out of blood." John reminded calmly as he knelt down in front of them and tied his handkerchief tightly around Molly's limb to temporarily secure her wound.

"Yes, yes. Of course." The consulting detective agreed, wasting no time as he gently helped Molly up and wrapped an arm around Molly while Janine held her other hand as they both guided her to the back of the car.

"There's no hospital here. Not in a few hundred miles, that is." Janine notified the two men, keeping an eye on Molly.

Sherlock winced and stopped the car before turning to the suffering pathologist. Seeing as they clearly had no choice, Sherlock sighed in defeat. "John, call Mycroft." He commanded.

"I thought you blocked his number?" John asked pulling his phone out.

"I saved it nonetheless."

* * *

Somewhere in a place unknown, in a large court of marble walls and lux furniture dated from decades ago, pillars towering, and arcs lined with gold, a yell of agony echoed throughout its majestic halls and high ceiling adorned with crystal chandeliers.

A tall man in a sleek chrome suit was pacing back and forth in the receiving area in front of a crackling fireplace. His footsteps were muffled by a great rug made out of the skin of a white Siberian tiger, that was once just as fierce and alive as the clearly frustrated man mentioned.

"MY ORDERS WERE VERY SPECIFIC." He bellowed at he receiver of the phone with a voice larger than himself.

"Y-yes, Sir," a fearful man from the other side of the line stuttered and clutched onto the telephone in attempts to pull his collapsing legs together, "But she got in the way-"

"SILENCE." said The Master. He stopped his pacing and heaved out a few calming breaths before settling down on one of the majestic armchairs that adorned the room. He sat with his legs crossed and pinched the bridge of his nose before answering back in a dangerous and rising intonation.

"Not only did you fail to injure the Detective-a SIMPLE task, I gave you-but you managed TO HURT THE ONE PERSON I TOLD YOU TO KEEP SAFE."

"Sir, please-" the man on the other end begged, "Please, give me another chance! I will do it properly this time, I promise! N-Nobody saw my face, I can, I can do this again- I will get the job done! swear, I will."

"Tut, tut." Spoke the man in the suit. "I am afraid you're all out of chances..."

"You have disappointed me."

A small noise was heard from the other line which he made out to be a whimper of fear from the younger man he was conversing with, "No, please. I-"

"You know the price you must pay for your incompetence." He continued nevertheless, ignoring the pleas of the person on the other end.

"PLEASE, NO." The man on the phone cried in a hoarse voice, "Don't hurt my family... Please, Sir, don't hurt them..."

"Don't fret." He said, his eyes, soulless and cold as ice, "You will see them soon."

"...What?" The man replied with a small voice between his sobs, "What do you mean...WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

"If my deductions are correct, someone will call me soon. Goodbye now." The Master said in a bored tone, pressing the red button on his cellphone before tucking it neatly in his coat's pocket. He shut his eyes and folded his hands into a prayer position. He then rested his head at the back of the chair, humming a low tune to himself.

"Hello? HELLO?" The man on the other end called out in desperation though he knew that his Master had hung up. He placed the telephone back on its hook and drew his grey hood over his head.

_He will call back soon._ He repeated over and over in his head to comfort himself as he leaned against the glass door of the telephone booth and slid down to its floor. _He will call. He will._

The faint sound of a pitter patter against its roof had informed him it was beginning to rain outside. "How cruel." he whispered, "Even the weather is against me..."

In there he sat for a minutes that turned into hours for a call from his Master that never came. He was slowly beginning to lose hope and fear was reigning in his heart. The Master was a very powerful man with connections more than his mind could ever imagine. If he wanted to make his life a living hell, he would be able to do it with just a single snap of his fingers.

"It's alright. Everything will be alright." He began to spew out empty words of comfort to himself as the tears that had stopped a few hours ago began to pour out once more. "Nothing bad will happen..."

He scrunched his eyes in vain to cease his crying. Wrapping his arms around him and filling his head with thoughts of being at home with his wife and his two little boys. Back when he did not owe anything to anybody. Back when he did not have to engage in criminal activities for the protection of the ones he loved. He cursed at himself for being so stupid. If only had not missed the shot. If only that wretched woman, whoever she was that seemed to be of importance to the Master had not blocked his shot, his task would be complete. The Detective would have been dead and and he would be home with his family once more.

"He is a monster." He growled, referring to his Employer. "A heartless, despicable, cruel monst-"

He did not get to finish his sentence for at that very moment, the glass he was leaning on shattered behind him as a bullet shot from a silent gun made its home in his skull.


End file.
